


The One with the Baby

by st3r3k0bs3ss3d (Gabby_Withers)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Kid Fic, M/M, Magic Stiles, Post Mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2018-08-29 17:02:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 41,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8498095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabby_Withers/pseuds/st3r3k0bs3ss3d
Summary: Stiles is back in Beacon Hills a year after he ran away in the middle of the night, leaving behind his father, Derek, Scott, everyone. Life altering secret in tow, Stiles is running from something or someone that is definitely trying to do him harm. Will his friends and family forgive him for leaving? And more importantly, will they be able to keep him safe?Story updates every Monday until it's done! Story will update as chapters are written!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Everyone, this is a very new story that is still formulating. Really just posting to see if their is any interest. Rating might change to explicit as the story continues. If you notice any typos feel free to message me!

Stiles sits on the steps of the burnt out shell of a house waiting. Waiting for what, he’s not quite sure. Derek probably knows he is there already. He’s creepy that way, especially when it comes to this house. If he hasn’t shown by now, Stiles is certain that he isn’t going to. And yet he continues to sit.

It’s more telling than he wants to admit that the first place he goes to after not stepping foot in Beacon Hills in over a year is the old Hale House. It’s almost like nothing has changed. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. Everything’s changed. And absolutely nothing turned out the way he had expected. 

Sure, surviving high school had been unexpected. And finding Derek standing next to his Dad at the end of his graduation ceremony with a single rose had been more than a pleasant surprise. Their three-year relationship that lasted through Stiles’s beginning years at Berkeley had been a dream come true. In fact, having Derek back in his life had been easy. It had felt right in a way their previously elicit relationship never did. His father had gotten to know Derek. Had loved him like a son, joking endlessly about them acting like an old married couple. “You remind me of me and Claudia,” he had said, smiling for the first time ever while talking about his dead wife.

But Stiles had walked away from it all. For seemingly no reason, Stiles had tucked his tail between his legs and ran. But he had a reason, thank you very much. Reasons like being scared and terrified and far too young. Reasons like waking up one day, seeing his whole life laid out before him, and realizing he didn’t deserve the calm, peaceful existence he had grown to expect with Derek. Reasons like the tiny babbling baby in the car seat sitting on the steps next to him. 

Stiles shakes his head to clear his mind of the haunting memories and pushes himself to his feet. He turns back to bend over the car seat and smiles.

“Looks like he’s not coming, beautiful,” Stiles murmurs gently, as he tugs the cap further down the baby’s head. She reaches out for his fingers, desperate to grab hold. “Maybe it’s for the best, right, honeybee?”

Stiles almost doesn’t hear the sound of the twig snapping behind him over the triumphant giggles she makes as she catches Stiles’s pinky. Caught off guard, he instinctively calls his spark to his fingers, enjoying the way his magic crackles in the crisp autumn air.

“Stiles?” Derek’s confused voice comes from behind him. 

“Guess I was wrong,” Stiles mumbles to himself before turning around slowly, careful to keep himself in front of the car seat. 

Stiles’s breath freezes in his chest, simply at the sight of Derek after all the time that has passed. He still looks the same: chiseled and perfect and grumpy. A sharp contrast to the spit-up stained collar of Stiles’s t-shirt and bags that hang under his eyes from exhaustion. He clears his throat, aiming for casual and falling about a mile from the mark. “Hey, Derek.”

“What are you doing here?” Derek asks impassively, betraying nothing behind his stony features. 

“‘Hi, Stiles, it’s so nice to see you,’” Stiles sighs running his hand over the top of his head. “‘How long have you been sitting on my creepy stoop?’”

“Don’t,” Derek bites out, anger flaring in his eyes for a moment as they burn red. “I haven’t seen you nearly a year and a half.”

“It hasn’t been a year and a half,” Stiles counters defensively. “Don’t exaggerate.”

“Don’t exaggerate?” Derek yells as he takes a threatening step forward. “That’s all you have to say for yourself.”

Stiles flinches and hates himself for the way his spark surges threateningly. He knows Derek is not a threat. More importantly, he’s not afraid of him. He never really was. Being pushed against walls and manhandled was floor play more than anything else. But he knows Derek is right. He has every right to be angry, furious even at the way Stiles had left things. 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles replies. “You’re right I shouldn’t have left that way. I shouldn’t have…”

“Why are you here, Stiles?” Derek interrupts him, the anger vanishing behind a mask of impassivity.

“I…” Stiles starts and then stops. He shakes his head. This isn’t going the way he had hoped. Not that anything ever did. Not since that stupid day in those fucking woods. He hadn’t been thinking clearly when he tossed all of his belongings into the car and headed home. He was listening to his instincts, knowing something wasn’t right. He was listening to the bone-deep ache for Derek that has plagued him from the night he drove out of town, hell-bent on never coming back. “I...don’t know. I wanted to...I needed to see you.” 

He stares at Derek, waiting to see if he will say anything. Try as he might, Stiles can’t silence the hopeful voice in the back of his mind that wants Derek to say he feels the same. The silence stretches on, way past uncomfortable.

“I think you should go,” Dere finally says, and Stiles feels something inside himself break. 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles sighs, ignoring the way his voice breaks. “You’re right. We’ll go. This was a mistake.”

“We?” Derek asks.

As if on cue, an adorable coo rises from behind Stiles. He closes his eyes, cursing himself for thinking it was a good idea to bring her. Stiles doesn’t miss the uncertainty that flashes across Derek’s face as he takes a step back. The coo turns into a screech and Stiles knows from experience that the screech will turn into full-on wailing if he doesn’t give her attention soon. Stiles digs the heels of his hands into his eyes as he lets out an exhausted groan and turns around to unstrap her from car seat.

“Come on, love,” Stiles whispers soothingly. “I’m right here.”

The little girl waves her hands as Stiles’s face hovers into view. He loosens the straps and picks her up gently. Stiles tucks her against his neck as she nuzzles her face against him. Stiles’s heart aches at the familiarity of the action as he rubs soothing circles on her back. 

“What’s going on?” Derek asks a slight hint of anger in his voice. Stiles stiffens and feels the little body tense against him in response and little nails scratch at chest.

“Laurie,” Stiles hisses against the pain, as she begins to fuss. “We talked about this: no claws.”

Stiles feels more than hears Derek approach him. He turns toward him and holds out a hand to stop his advance. Laurie isn’t used to strangers and she definitely isn’t used to strange werewolves. Derek eyes the tiny quivering form hesitantly, waiting for Stiles to explain.

“Derek, this is Laurie,” Stiles says as he turns his little girl so she is sitting against his chest. “Laurie, this is Derek.”

Laurie quiets down as she takes in the world around her. When her eyes settle on Derek, Laurie babbles and makes grabby hands for him. When she flashes her tiny golden eyes at him, Derek takes a step back.

“Where did you get a baby, Stiles? A werewolf baby for that matter.”

Stiles looks up from smiling down at Laurie, confusion marring his features. With her mole specked skin, the resemblance is definitely there. “She’s my daughter, Derek.”

Within an instant, Derek switches from confused to angry and a deep growl rumbles from his chest. “How dare you.”

“What the hell?” Stiles asks, taking a step back to put distance between himself and the angry werewolf. 

“How dare you bring her here.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been gone for what? A year. That baby is at least eight months old.”

“How do you even know that?” Stiles questions, momentarily distracted by the accuracy of Derek’s statement.

“I had siblings, Stiles!” Derek growls as he continues to advance. “Who was it?”

“Who was who?” Stiles asks completely baffled.

“Who did you cheat on me with?” Derek asks, his eyes burning red and sideburns sprouting from his cheeks. 

“I have never cheated on you, Derek,” Stiles hisses while he tucks Laurie securely against his chest. He holds a hand out in front of him, allowing his spark to extend out of him. He can see the moment Derek feels his magic, a subtle reminder he’s not dealing with some scared kid anymore. Stiles can and will stop him to defend his daughter.

Derek halts his advance, and eyes Stiles’s hand warily. “Who’s her mother, Stiles?”

“What?” Stiles asks bewildered. He thought Derek would know. Thought it was obvious from Laurie’s little button nose and hair so dark it’s almost black. Thought he would be able to smell it on her the same way Stiles could. “I...I am, Derek. Well, sort of.”

“Get off my property.”

“Derek…” Stiles says, shocked at the pain that shoots through his chest. 

“Spare me your wounded look, Stiles,” Derek scoffs. “If you didn’t come here to tell me the truth, why are you here? Do you need money or something?”

Stiles’s blood runs cold. “Fuck you, Derek.”

He turns his back on the werewolf and stalks toward the steps. He places Laurie delicately in her car seat before throwing the strap of her diaper bag over his shoulder. 

“Fuck me?” Derek all but yells. “How about “fuck you”? Obviously, someone did to produce a baby nine months later.”

“Yeah, asshole,” Stiles hisses, as he hefts the car seat up off the step and turns to glare at Derek. “You did.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kind words! As long as the story still flows, I'll keep writing.
> 
> Sorry this chapter is so short. It was a rough week.
> 
> Hopefully next chapter will be longer!
> 
> Let me know what you think :)
> 
> UPDATE: The next chapter will likely be posted next Monday and every Monday thereafter. I think it's better to start the week with some Sterek rather and end the week with some Sterek. :)

Derek freezes, his brain unable to comprehend the absurdity of what Stiles is suggesting while it is filled with the intoxicating scent that is purely Stiles. In the year that Stiles had been gone Derek had dreamed of that scent: cinnamon tinged with a sprinkle of spice that marked his magic. Derek takes another deep breath, knowing his dreams had never done Stiles’s aroma justice. Now that his brain is adapting to the overwhelming smell of Stiles, Derek can smell the baby he is holding in his arms. The similarity in their smells is enough to make Derek believe that Stiles is her father. But now, after months of complete radio silence, Stiles is loitering outside of his house, suggesting that this child is somehow theirs?

Derek shakes his head. He would remember if Stiles somehow had the biology to produce a baby. And they sure as hell wouldn’t have been so cavalier about safe sex. 

“Wow,” Stiles laughs, that scornful, self-deprecating laugh Derek hates with every fiber of his being. “Did you already forget fucking me, Sourwolf? I thought it was pretty memorable.”

“Don’t call me that,” Derek growls, more out of habit than any real annoyance. “What you’re saying doesn’t make sense.”

“Which part?” Stiles asks. “The part about our awesome sex life or that part where you have a daughter?”

“I don’t understand...”

“What’s not to understand, Derek?” Stiles spits at him. “You knocked me up, and nine months later there was Laurie!”

Stiles lifts the car seat slightly to emphasize his point.

“That’s not...,” Derek shakes his head, trying to dislodge the little girl’s name, so similar to his sisters that it cuts him to his core. “You can’t just give birth to a baby, Stiles. Biology doesn’t work that way.”

Stiles openly laughs as he places the carrier at his feet. He begins to unbutton his flannel and shakes his head. “You would think, wouldn’t you? Have you ever actually read the bestiary? For a born-werewolf, you don’t seem to know how a lot of this stuff actually works.”

“How what works?”

Stiles pushes open his flannel and lifts his t-shirt revealing the angry red scar that runs along his abdomen and interlocks with the stretch marks that litter his stomach. Derek runs his eyes along the scar before he notices the tiny, white, razor-thin scars that are littered across Stiles’s chest. Anger at whoever marred his body erupts inside his chest before Derek notices little beads of fresh blood along Stiles’s sides. He remembers how Stiles hissed in pain when holding the baby. 

“I’m a spark, Derek,” Stiles says calmly, as he tugs his shirt back down. “I can do a lot of things that don’t always make sense.”

Derek draws his attention away from Stiles’s body as Stiles leans down again to pick up Laurie’s carrier. This can’t be happening. Stiles has a baby. A baby that is currently staring at him with unblinking eyes. A baby that has Stiles’s perfect freckles along her arms and face. A baby that might somehow be his. 

“How...why…?” Derek stutters. 

“Magic, Derek. The answer to those questions is always magic.” 

Derek eyes widen, as he begins to believe what Stiles is telling him. He...no...they have a daughter. 

“I still don’t understand why you’re here,” Derek says unthinkingly, and immediately regrets it when Stiles flinches away from him.

“You’re right,” Stiles says with an air of calmness that unsettles Derek to his very core. Where was his Stiles with his childlike demeanor and uncontrollable limbs? He had a baby, his brain supplies because it’s the obvious answer. What was it his mother had always said when talking to him and Laura about sex? You can’t be a child and raise a child. Derek shakes off the memory and realizes that Stiles is buckling Laurie’s car seat into the back seat of the Jeep.

“Stiles, wait!” Derek yells. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“No,” Stiles responds closing the backdoor gently and opening the driver side door to toss the diaper bag onto the passenger seat. “I think that’s exactly what you meant.”

Stiles hoists himself into the front seat and slams the door shut. When he turns the key in the ignition, Derek begins to panic. Stiles is leaving again and he can’t let him do that.

“Wait…” Derek yells, glad that the window is open so he can hold onto the door. Maybe if he tries hard enough he can hold the car in place.

“For the record, Derek,” Stiles says, his voice completely devoid of emotion. “I didn’t come here for your money. I just needed...You know what? It doesn’t matter what I needed. We’ve been doing just without you, and we’ll continue to do fine without you. So just do me a favor, okay?”

He turns to look Derek directly in the eye. The anger blazing behind Stiles’s eyes causes Derek to take a step back.

“Just forget we were ever here.”

Derek opens his mouth to object, to tell Stiles to stay and just explain to him one more time what’s going on. But Stiles put the car in gear and backs out of the driveway without another word.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter whoo! It's longer than the last two combined I think so hopefully you will enjoy!
> 
> You can also visit me at tumblr if you like :) at [ st3r3k0bs3ss3d](http://st3r3k0bs3ss3d.tumblr.com/)

Stiles pushes against the door to his room at the grimy motel on the outskirts of Beacon Hills. He stumbles into the room, slamming his shoulder on the door as he tries to juggle the car seat, diaper bag, playpen, and suitcase.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Stiles groans, dropping Laurie’s carrier with a loud thump that sends her crying. Stiles kicks the door closed and throws everything in the corner before scrambling over to his daughter. “I’m sorry, honeybee. Daddy’s sorry.”

Laurie screams loudly as Stiles struggles to unhook the safety harnesses and his heart breaks. Once she’s finally free, Stiles presses her little body to his chest and bounces her gently. 

“Shh, Laurie, you’re okay,” he whispers, his lips brushing against her head while he paces the room. “You’re okay.”

Stiles squeezes his eyes against the tears that burn the inside of his eyelids and the tightness that forms in his chest. He can’t go to pieces. Not when his daughter is scared and needs him to anchor her. He forces himself to take a few deep breaths, counting down in his head from ten while whispering a song against Laurie’s hair.

They’ll be okay. They don’t need Derek. They have essentially been on their own for months now. Stiles had done the morning sickness and bone-crushing exhaustion by himself. He had found an emissary to help deliver his baby by himself. He had raised her, loved her, protected her by himself. It was silly of him to even come here. He hadn’t been thinking clearly, focusing solely on keeping his daughter safe. 

“I can do this,” Stiles whispers as Laurie drifts off to sleep. “We’ll be fine, little girl. I’m going to keep you safe. We don’t need a grumpy Alpha, do we?” 

Even as Stiles says the words, he knows he’s lying to himself. Before today, being alone was a choice. It was always an option to come home and tell Derek the truth. It was always an option to pick up the phone and call his Dad or Scott. He probably could have even called Derek, and he would have been there in seconds to help. At least that was what he had thought. Now he’s no longer sure.

Stiles thinks back to the night he decided he was leaving Beacon Hills for good. A single, offhand comment had sent Stiles running. A comment that Derek probably didn’t even remember saying. Stiles remembers feeling sick for weeks, assuming it was something supernatural because that was just his luck. He had consulted the bestiary and nearly thrown up for the fifth time in one day when he read about this special little thing male sparks could do: procreate through pregnancy. Pregnant was never a word Stiles would have thought to associate with himself. Regardless, he found himself sitting in Derek’s apartment trying to figure out the best way to say, “Hey, apparently I can grow a uterus?”

When he heard Derek at the door, Stiles didn’t go to meet him. He remained seated on the couch, unsure he could stand without puking again, especially as the knot in his stomach tightened with his growing nerves. When Derek entered the living room, Stiles saw him wrinkle his nose in disgust.  
“Still not feeling good, babe?” Derek asked, sympathetic to his pain though he could never understand what it was like to puke constantly. Stupid werewolves never even got the flu.

“Yea, it’s been hard to keep food down...especially in the morning,” Stiles hinted hoping that would be enough for Derek to put together the pieces.

Derek hummed sympathetically as he pushed off his coat and tossed it over the side of the couch. “You know what’s weird?”

“What?” Stiles asked, curling into Derek’s side when he finally sat down.

“The only time I’ve ever seen someone puke this much was when my aunt was pregnant,” Derek laughed, wrapping his arm around Stiles’s stomach and tugging him in close. “Thank god you can’t get pregnant, right? We definitely don’t need that kind of trouble.”

Stiles’s world had begun to crumble in that moment. It crumbled at such an alarming rate that he had been certain he was going to disintegrate right there on the couch, leaving behind a pile of ash. Derek thought a baby would bring trouble. That did not bode well for Stiles in his current condition. The blood pounded in his ears so loudly that it took Stiles a few minutes to realize Derek was asking him if he was okay.

“Yea,” he whispered, already planning when he could leave. “Thank god.”

Stiles shakes his head to clear the memory and realizes Laurie has drifted off to sleep. He pulls Laurie’s blanket from the suitcase before placing her gently on the center of the ratty bedspread and piling pillows around her. Stiles curls around her little fort and rest his hand on her tummy. Despite the tears that stream down his face, Stiles lets his eyes drift closed. Just as he’s drifting off to sleep, Stiles snuggles closer to his daughter.

“Daddy loves you, honeybee.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Stiles wakes with a start in the darkening motel room. It hasn’t been more than a few hours since he fell asleep. Next to him, Laurie snuffles unhappily. Stiles rubs her stomach soothingly while he sits up and looks around the room, wondering what woke him up so abruptly. 

Suddenly, a loud banging on the door echoes throughout the room. Without hesitating, Stiles throws himself towards the suitcase and roots through it, searching for the wolfsbane soaked bullets and gun he had packed when leaving Berkeley. 

“Stiles! Stiles, open up right now! I know you’re in there!”

Stiles freezes momentarily shocked to his core before he’s scrambling off the floor and racing toward the sound of his father’s voice, a sound that he hasn’t heard in months. He flings open the door, falling unceremoniously into his father’s arm.

“Dad,” Stiles croaks, squeezing his eyes tight as tears dripped down his face. “How did you...What are you...How?”

“Shhh, deep breaths, son,” his dad whispers, holding Stiles just as tight, almost as if he’s afraid Stiles will disappear again.

Stiles releases a shuddering breath before whispering, “How did you find me?”

“That Jeep of yours sticks out like a sore thumb in this town,” his father chuckles, giving Stiles a final squeeze. “As long as you’re still driving it, I’ll be able to find you.”

When he releases his father and opens his eyes, Stiles freezes. Hovering behind his father in a tight little semi-circle, Scott, Allison, Lydia, and Jackson stare back at him. 

“What are you doing here?” Stiles asks as he steps back from his father, momentarily angry. “Lydia, tell me you didn’t tell them.”

“Of course, I didn’t, Stiles,” Lydia snaps. “I said I wouldn’t tell them and I didn’t.”

“You knew he was here?” Scott asks, betrayal flashing across his face to make him look like a wounded puppy.

“Of course, I knew he was here, Scott. He drove me here,” Lydia says nonchalantly, like Stiles being back in Beacon Hills is no big deal.

“You were at Berkeley this whole time?” the Sheriff asks, his brows scrunching in confusion. 

“Sort of,” Stiles says, while nervously picking at the stray thread on the cuff of his flannel. 

“Did you graduate?”

“No,” Stiles responds absentmindedly before noticing the disappointment in his father’s eyes. “I mean, not yet. I will. This semester actually. I’m just finishing up my senior project. But that doesn’t tell me what you’re all doing here?”

“One of your dad’s deputies saw your car and called your dad while I was with him,” Scott explains. “I called Allison, Allison called Lydia and Lydia was with Jackson and here we are.”

“I don’t care about that,” his dad interrupts, fatherly disapproval dripping from his voice. “If you weren’t at school, what were you doing all this time?”  
Stiles looks at his dad uncertainly. He hadn’t pictured this part of coming home, secretly hoping Derek would be with him to act as a buffer. Maybe even draw away some of the anger Stiles is certain will be directed at him. But Derek isn’t here. 

_Doesn’t want to be here_ , Stiles reminds himself. He had known that from the beginning, even if he had disillusioned himself temporarily. And now, standing before his father and his best friends, Stiles needs to explain why he left. And why he only responded to emails sporadically, always asking them to never try to find him. 

“Stiles,” Lydia says gently, waiting for Stiles to look at her before continuing. “It’s time to tell him. To tell them.”

“I know,” Stiles sighs wearily, appreciating that Lydia can at least recognize how difficult this is for him. “Y’all might as well come inside.”

Stiles turns towards the door and is about to walk inside when a hand catches his shoulder. “Stiles, there’s a werewolf in there,” Scott says, his eyes bleeding red. 

Stiles reaches up and gives his best friend’s clawed hand a squeeze. “Yea, Scott. I know.”

Stiles walks into the room, going straight to the bed without checking to see if anyone is following him. He bends over and smiles down at Laurie, who has somehow gotten her sock off and is sucking at her foot. 

“Hi, silly girl, did you have a good nap?” Stiles laughs, as he reaches down to lift her from the bed. He sweeps her above her head just to hear her squeal with glee and sniffs at her diaper on the way down. He wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Someone needs to be changed, sugar.” 

Stiles turns around to find where he had tossed her diaper bag and stops short. Standing by the door, with expressions ranging from Scott’s horror to Jackson’s boredom and Lydia’s amusement, is a line of the most important people in his life. At least, they were before Stiles hurt them all. Stiles glances between them and the diaper bag, unsure what he should do first. Deciding allowing his daughter to stew in her own filth is not something he can live, he heads towards the bathroom to grab a towel. As he walks away, Stiles calls over his shoulder, “Lyds, can you get the diaper bag?”

“Sure thing,” Lydia says, without hesitating. By the time Stiles returns from the bathroom, Lydia has the baby wipes, cream, and a fresh diaper ready on the bed. She makes grabby hands at Laurie, who reaches back when she recognized Lydia. “Come on, sugar, did you miss Auntie Lydia? She missed you so much.”

“Calm down, Lyds,” Stiles laughs as he hands her Laurie. “It’s been less than 24 hours.”

Lydia shoots him an icy glare before snatching the towel from Stiles and turning towards the bed to change Laurie’s diaper. She lays the towel down and places Laurie in the center while blowing raspberries on her stomach. 

“Auntie Lydia?” Scott asks, looking around at everyone in the room to see if they understand what is going on. 

“Oh, this is going to get good,” Jackson smirks, before plopping himself in an armchair to watch the entertainment unfold. Stiles rolls his eyes. He knows Lydia probably told him months ago, though they had never talked about it. Their on-again-off-again relationship was too complicated for Stiles to keep track of anyway. It wasn’t too long ago that Stiles had finally shown up on her doorstep with a baby begging for a place to stay for a few weeks, just while he sorted some things out. Those weeks had turned into months and before he even realized it, he was co-parenting Laurie with Lydia, and Lydia never had any intention of letting Laurie and him leave. He smiles at Jackson, feeling a small bubble of fondness for the asshole when he realizes he hadn’t told anyone. Although, Stiles is nearly certain that Jackson’s silence has more to do with Lydia’s ability to paint a violent and bloody picture of what exactly would happen to Jackson if he betrayed her than any loyalty he might feel for Stiles.

“Helpful, Jackson. Thanks,” Stiles says sarcastically. 

“What’s going on here, Stiles?” the Sheriff asks, taking a step forward. “Where did you get that baby?”

“That werewolf baby,” Scott clarifies. 

Stiles hesitates for a moment, glancing back at Lydia who nods at him encouragingly. “That’s Laurie. She’s my...um...daughter?”

“Your daughter?” the Sheriff parrots. “You don’t seem sure.”

“She’s definitely my daughter, Dad,” Stiles sighs, running a hand over his face. The room is silent for moment besides the sounds of Laurie cooing at Lydia and the electronic tones of whatever game Jackson is playing on his phone.

“She’s beautiful, Stiles,” Allison whispers in awe, breaking the silence. She peers around him for a better look and Stiles smiles at her sadly, knowing it’s the Nogitsune’s fault she has been unable to have a baby. 

“You can hold her if you want,” Stiles offers. 

Allison’s face lights up and she nods eagerly, stepping forward with her arms already outstretched.

“Allison, no,” Scott growls, stepping in front her. “She’s a wolf.”

“She’s a baby, Scott,” Allison responds with a glare, daring him to stop her. She steps around him to join to Lydia by the bed. Stiles watches Allison carefully lean over the bed, waiting to see if Laurie will let her pick her up. 

When Stiles turns back, he looks warily at his father and Scott. 

“Surprise,” Stiles says weakly while waving his hands at his side.

“She’s a werewolf, Stiles,” Scott says, as he scrunches up his face like he smells something bad.

“Yea, I know,” Stiles replies unamused, thinking about the numerous tiny tantrums she has thrown resulting in scratches across his body. Stiles isn’t looking forward to the terrible twos. He rubs the exhaustion out of his eyes before turning back to Scott, whose nose is still twitching. “Hey! Stop sniffing my daughter.”

“She...she smells weird! She doesn’t smell like pack, Stiles,” Scott offers as an explanation before taking a step towards Stiles and another deep breath. There is a flash of hurt across his face as Scott steps back. “And neither do you.”

Stiles shakes his head. He knew procreating with another Alpha would sever his ties to Scott’s pack permanently, but if he was honest, Stiles hadn’t been part of Scott’s pack for some time. Even before Laurie, Stiles had belonged to Derek completely. 

“Who’s her mother?” the Sheriff asks, his arms still tightly crossed over his chest.

“I…” Stiles pauses, thinking back to telling Derek and how well that had gone. He chooses his words carefully before continuing. “I’d rather not say right now. I’m raising her and that’s what matters right now.”

He watches his father’s feature soften. The Sheriff always had a soft spot for single parents, being intimately familiar with the long hours at work and the even longer hours at home. Stiles had always felt guilty for the exhaustion on his father’s face when he was younger. Now he knows that same look that mars his features now.

He feels Lydia’s hand on his arm and looks down at her confused face. He shakes his head minutely, begging her not to ask. She had been so sure Derek would be happy to see him. Stiles doesn’t have it in his heart to tell her she was wrong.

Allison steps up to him on his other side, cradling Laurie in her arms and smiling down at her. Stiles has never seen her so at peace, even as Laurie wraps her little fingers in her hair and tugs.

“So this is the reason you didn’t come home?” the Sheriff asks and Stiles is surprised to hear the anger in his voice.

“Sort of,” Stiles tries to explain. “There were a lot of reasons, but, yea, Laurie was definitely one of them.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me what was going on? I could have helped. We could have talked about options.”

Stiles flinches against the suggestion. “I couldn’t just get rid of her, Dad. You heard Scott. She’s a werewolf. That’s not exactly a normal situation to explain to some unsuspecting want-to-be parents.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” the Sheriff back-pedals quickly. “I meant with school and being on your own.”

“I’m graduating soon, Dad. School just took a little longer than anticipated. And I wasn’t alone.”

“I thought you said her mother wasn’t around?” Scott asks.

Stiles glares at Scott, hating that people assume that his daughter is somehow lacking because her “mother” isn’t around. Nothing to say that he gave birth to her and devoted nearly every waking hour to Laurie’s needs; changing nearly every diaper, making every bottle, taking care of every sniffle and earache. He had plenty of support these last few months that did not depend on Laurie being with both her biological parents.

“Lydia has been a really big help,” Stiles responds, not wanting to elaborate. 

“How long have you known?” Scott nearly yells, turning towards Lydia angrily.

Lydia shrugs, as she inspects her nails, completely unphased by the angry Alpha baring down on her. “Stiles and I practically lived together at school. He fell off the face of the Earth for a while in an effort to hide it from me, but we all know that wasn’t going to work. When he finally got his head out of his ass and asked to move into my place, I wasn’t going to say no.”

Scott levels Stiles with a look of such betrayal, Stiles feels his stomach drop. “Scottie, I wanted to tell you. I swear I did. There was just so much going on, and I didn’t know what to do.”

“So instead you cut us out.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Really, seems like that was exactly what it was like. Run back to Berkeley, knock up some chick, and leave your friends and family behind.”

“Scott…”

“Just don’t, Stiles, okay? We could have been there for you and you know it. She’s a werewolf for Christ's sake. Did you join another pack?”

“Of courses not!” Stiles yells, shocked at the implication. Beacon Hills will always be his home and his to protect. Nothing could ever change that. 

“I can’t do this right now, okay?” Scott says, before heading for the door. “Allison, let’s go.”

Allison looks down sadly at the little girl in her arms, before carefully handing her to Stiles. Stiles flinches at the sound of the door hitting the wall as Scott storm from the room. 

“He’ll come around,” Allison whispers before standing on her tippy-toes to kiss Stiles on the cheek. She wraps her arms around Stiles and hugs him tight careful not to crush Laurie. “I’m so happy you’re back.”

“Thanks, Ally.”

“Don’t leave again, okay?” Allison says, a hint of begging in her voice. “At least not without saying goodbye, promise?”

He hugs her back tight. “Promise.”

Stiles watches Ally walk out the door and close it carefully behind her before turning back to his dad. “Are you going to yell at me too, now?”

“I should,” the Sheriff begins. “God knows you deserve it after what you put me through.”

Stiles nods and braces himself for the worst.

“But no, Stiles, I’m not going to yell at you.”

Stiles sags in relief, a small sob bubbling out of his throat.

“Don’t get me wrong. You’re in a heap of trouble and we’re going to have a long talk about it.” Stiles nods quickly to show he agrees. The Sheriff turns toward Lydia and Jackson. “And you two are in a heap of trouble, too. It’s clear to me that you both knew exactly what was going on.”

Lydia stands defiantly for a moment before she nods in agreement. “That’s fair,” she agrees, as she falls into Jackson’s lap.

The Sheriff shakes his head at her before turning back towards Stiles. “Right now, all I want to know is when you’re going to let me hold my grandbaby?”

Stiles laughs as the tears finally break free, relief flooding his system. “Laurie this is your Papa,” Stiles says handing her over gently, but staying close so she knows he’s not leaving her with a stranger. 

“Oof,” the Sheriff breathes as he looks down at his granddaughter, “That made me sound old.”

“Get used to it, old man,” Stiles smiles. “You’re a grandfather now.”


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Stiles sits at his father’s kitchen table, holding a steaming cup of coffee in his hands and staring at the baby monitor in the center of the table. After one look around the motel room, the Sheriff had insisted that Stiles and Laurie come home with him. Although waking up in his childhood bedroom brought back numerous memories, many of which starred Derek, Stiles had been secretly relieved. Sleeping in motels among all the unfamiliar smells always makes Laurie anxious.

“‘Morning,” his father mumbles as he enters the kitchen. 

“Hey, Dad,” Stiles responds, watching as he gropes around blindly for the coffeepot. “Helps if you open your eyes.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, cracking an eye open. “That little girl has some set of lungs on her.”

Stiles winces, remember how late it was when Laurie finally fell asleep. “Well someone got her all riled up playing airplane.”

“It’s not my fault she kept making that adorable little noise.”

“It’s called a laugh, Dad,” Stiles deadpans.

“Well, it’s the cutest darn laugh, I’ve ever heard.”

Stiles shakes his head and listens carefully for the sounds of Laurie waking up. He breathes a sigh of relief, knowing there was still some time to enjoy his coffee.

“So,” his father says, placing his coffee on the table and taking the seat across from him. “Ready to tell me what actually happened?”

“What do you mean?” Stiles asks without looking up from his coffee.

“How did you get saddled with a baby, Stiles?” his father asks gently. Though he knows what his dad asking, Stiles can’t help but hate him for it anyway. Everyone always assumed that Stiles, seemingly the father, was stuck taking care of his mistake.

“Well, it takes two to tango, Dad. You taught me that.”

“And I agree, Stiles. Of course, I agree. But that doesn’t explain why that little girl’s mother walked out on her.”

Stiles groans, running his hands through his hair in annoyance. Why couldn’t everyone just accept that Laurie didn’t have “mother”? Not in the traditional sense anyway.

“Besides, I thought you were in love with Derek,” his father continues, causing Stiles to flinch. “Was it a one night stand?”

“No, Dad, it wasn’t a one night stand.”

The Sheriff is quiet for a moment, eyeing him suspiciously. Stiles closes his eyes, wondering if there is a way out of this conversation. 

“Listen,” Stiles sighs. “Let’s not do this now. Maybe it’s better you don’t know everything. I’m not sure how long Laurie and I will be staying and...”

“Like hell,” the Sheriff snaps. “You just got here.”

“I know, Dad, and I missed you a lot. It’s just…”

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s nothing, Dad. Just drop it.”

“Does this have to do with the gun tucked into your pants?” the Sheriff asks, startlingly Stiles into silence. “I taught you better gun safety than that.”

Stiles stares at his father’s disapproving look before pulling the gun out. He unclips the magazine with a practiced ease and lays the pieces on the table in front of him, a stark reminder of the low thrum of panic that has invaded his life. His father eyes it warily before giving Stiles a calculating look. 

“You’re running from something,” his dad states. It’s not a question. His father had always been able to see through his facade, even when he was lying.

“You could say that,” Stiles agrees.

“What is it, Stiles?”

“I don’t know, Dad.”

The Sheriff scoffs at him. “I thought we agreed we were past the lies, Stiles. Although I didn’t even know you had a kid, so maybe we’re not.”

“Come on, Dad, that’s not fair,” Stiles says, trying to hide the hurt from his voice. “I was scared. I didn’t leave to hurt you. I didn’t even leave to help myself. I left because it was the best thing for my daughter. You’re the one that taught me you always do what’s best for your kids.”

The Sheriff is quite for a long time, and Stiles sags back against the chair. The long nights of worrying about Laurie had been taking their toll. Stiles never woke feeling rested and this morning is no different. 

“I didn’t realize there were werewolves at Berkeley,” the Sheriff says hesitantly.

“There are werewolves everywhere, Dad,” Stiles’s replies carefully, unsure where his father his going with this conversation. “I’ve been telling you that for years.”

“Did you meet Laurie’s mother at school?” 

Stiles sags his shoulder in defeat. He had been hoping to avoid this conversation for at least a few more hours. “Is there any way I could convince you to let this go?”

“It’s not likely.”

“Fine,” Stiles responds, pushing his chair back and walking over to the counter to get more coffee. He turns around and leans against the counter so he can watch his father. “I left town because I found out I was pregnant.”

“You mean you found out someone was pregnant.”

“No, Dad,” Stiles says sadly, shaking his head. “I found out I was pregnant.”

“And here I thought I had heard it all,” the Sheriff sighs, once he gets over his surprise. He stands and walks over to the liquor cabinet, taking out a bottle of whiskey. “I have a feeling I am going to need this.”

“Dad…”

“So my son got knocked up?”

Stiles nods, unable to speak around the lump in his throat.

“And that would make Derek the...father?”

“In a sense,” Stiles groans.

“Well at least you didn’t cheat on him. That would’ve killed him.”

“Why do people keep accusing me of that?” Stiles snaps, remembering the betrayal painted across Derek’s face the day before. “I love D...loved Derek. I would never do that to him.”

The Sheriff nods slowly, though he doesn’t seem to even be listening to Stiles anymore. “So how exactly does that work? You being pregnant.”

“The short answer: magic.”

“And the long answer?” his dad asks, hesitantly.

“It’s complicated, and trust me, you do not want to know the finer details,” Stiles responds vaguely pretty sure his father doesn’t want to hear about him and Derek having sex or how he almost died in the backroom of a clinic as his daughter tried to claw her way out of his body.

His dad nods silently, and Stiles breathes a sigh of relief thinking that the conversation is finally over. He turns around to pour himself more coffee. He’s reaching for the sugar when his dad finally speaks again. “So where’s Derek?” 

“Not here, Dad,” Stiles says quietly to keep his voice from breaking. “And before you ask, he’s not interested in being here.”

“Uh-huh.” the Sheriff says before taking a swig of his spiked coffee. “Does he know you’re in trouble?”

“Not exactly,” Stiles says meekly, realizing he never really got to that part of the conversation where he was going to Derek about the people that were after him.

“It’s funny. Derek never mentioned having a baby.”

Stiles pauses for a moment, before turning around slowly. “What do you mean?”

“I’d just have thought Derek would’ve mentioned having a baby when we talked. Even if he didn’t want to be involved.” The Sheriff arches his eyebrows at Stiles as if daring him to contradict him.

“First of all,” Stiles says, his anger rising. “I cannot believe you continued to see Derek after I explained we were no longer together...”

“You mean the half-assed letter you sent asking me not to look for you? Or maybe it was the email explaining you had changed your phone number so I shouldn’t try to call anymore? Derek was here and you weren’t. Of course, I still saw him, Stiles.”

Stiles flinches against the reminder he was once again a disappointment and clenches his jaw against the reflex to yell at him. “Okay, I deserved that. But I thought I was doing the right thing, okay?”

“What could possibly have made you think running away was the right thing, Stiles?” the Sheriff snaps. “You just left. I came home one day and all your things were gone. I thought maybe you had just finally moved in with Derek. God knows you spent enough time there. So imagine my surprise when I called Derek and he had no idea what I was talking about. We had no idea what happened to you! At least I got a letter. What did Derek get Stiles?”

“I had to!” Stiles yells. “I couldn’t stay here.”

“Why, Stiles? Why couldn’t you stay?”

“Dad, please…”

“No, tell me.”

“Dad…”

“Tell me why you left,” his dad yells, and Stiles glances nervously at the baby monitor. “We were devastated. We thought you had been kidnapped. Derek ran himself ragged trying to find you. He was a mess. He…”

“He didn’t want us!” Stiles screams, forcing his father to fall silent. Stiles heaves a shuddering breath, realizing there are tears streaming down his face. He wipes at his face angrily. He has cried more in the past few days then he cried over the last year. “He never wanted her. He made that clear before I left, and he made it clear again yesterday.” 

“That doesn’t sound like Derek, maybe…”

“He said he didn’t want her, Dad. And if he couldn’t want her, he couldn’t be with me. So I left.”

“Stiles…” the Sheriff starts, concern instantly replacing all traces of anger.

Stiles opens his mouth to respond when Laurie’s screams erupt from the baby monitor.  
“Damn it!” Stiles curses to himself. He pushes himself off the counter and wipes the tears from his face. He snatches the gun off the table before heading towards the door. His father reaches out to stop him, but Stiles sidesteps him, holding out his hands. “Just...just don’t, okay? You wanted to know what happened and now you do. Laurie and I will be out of your hair soon, so you don’t have to worry about us.” 

Stiles heads out of the kitchen, wiping the last remaining tears from his face as he begins to climb the stairs. Where are they supposed to go now?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday everyone! I'm posting this a little early because I have a very long and difficult week coming up and I don't want to forget to post tomorrow.
> 
> Thank you for all the kind words and kudos. I hope you like this chapter.
> 
> For those of you also coming to end of your semesters: we can do this!

Derek reaches for the nailgun as he balances the piece of drywall against his hand. He stretches out as far as he can, but it remains an inch out of reach. Someone nudges it forward and Derek glances up, smiling at Boyd.

“Thanks,” Derek breathes, scooping the nailgun off the ground and securing the drywall in place with six quick taps. 

“It’s coming along nicely,” Boyd states, looking around the room. Derek stands and brushes the dust onto his pants before following Boyd’s gaze around the room. He’s proud of himself for doing this. Not too long ago, the thought of restoring the house would have sent Derek into a violent rage. He had always thought he would let it be taken over by the forest when the time was right; a final burial for his family. But a few months ago, when he had finally called a contractor, he was pleased to find out that much of the house was salvageable, except for the pockets where the fires had started and where years of neglect had eaten away at the support beams. A short time later Derek had found himself at the house with a sledgehammer and blueprints, ready to take back the small part of his family that remained. Ready to make the house whole, warm, and welcoming again. 

“Porch looks like it’s about to come down,” Derek says, hoping to continue the small talk for as long as possible. “I’ll be able to start construction on the front of the house when it does.”

“Yea, I noticed that when I came in,” Boyd agrees. “Want to know what else I noticed?”

“Hmm?” Derek asks noncommittally, reaching for another piece of drywall.

“I noticed that the porch reeks of Stiles,” Boyd replies bluntly. “Something you want to tell me, boss?”

Derek is quiet for a moment, as he presses the nail gun against the wall. Unsure where to begin, he hesitates.

“Stiles is back,” he says after much deliberation. 

“So I figured. You going to tell Isaac?” Boyd asks, a hint of anger in his voice. 

Derek sighs, knowing that he needs to tell Isaac sooner rather than later. Isaac and Stiles had always been close. In a lot of ways, Isaac was more comfortable with Stiles than he was with Derek, looking to Stiles for advice and comfort rather than his Alpha. In the beginning, Derek had thought that Stiles was trying to undermine his position. It didn’t take Derek long to realize Stiles was doing the exact opposite, healing his pack slowly with a gentle hand and willing ear. When Stiles disappeared, Isaac had blamed himself - a side effect of a long history of abuse.

“I’m going to have to,” Derek sighs. “I’m just trying to figure out what to tell him.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s complicated,” Derek says, shaking his head. “I’m not sure if Stiles is back for good.  
Yesterday...he surprised me, and I...well I said some things.”

“Derek…” Boyd sighs disapprovingly, knowing how often Derek spoke without thinking.

“He has a baby, Boyd,” Derek whines, thinking about that precious little girl that had occupied his mind for hours. “A baby that he says is mine...mine and his...ours.”

“Did you talk to Deaton?” Boyd asks, without showing even a hint of surprise. This is why Boyd was his right-hand man. He was always much more level-headed than Derek and much less likely to be taken by surprise.

“He’s not my emissary, Boyd. I can’t just go asking him questions about freaky male pregnancy.”

“That might be true, but your emissary just waltzed back into town after over a year with a baby in tow.”

Derek flinches and turns away as guilt washes over him. 

“You never told him he was your emissary, did you?” Boyd asks.

“He disappeared before I could.”

“Bullshit,” Boyd says, showing a slight hint of anger for the first time. “You had months to tell him after he started training with Deaton. Did you even tell him he was part of our pack?”

Derek turns to Boyd with his eyes glowing red, a reaction to his beta’s insolence. It doesn’t matter that he’s right; that Derek should have told Stiles as soon as he felt the bond that tied Stiles to their pack. Derek continues to glare at Boyd, waiting for him to acknowledge his position. Boyd stares him down unafraid for a long minute, finally baring his neck slowly to pacify his Alpha.

“If you don’t want to bring Deaton into this, that’s fine,” Boyd says carefully. “But you can be sure that if Stiles is back in town, Scott knows. And if Scott knows, he’s going to tell Deaton whether or not you want him too.”

“You’re right,” Derek agrees, defeat causing his shoulders to sag. But Derek doesn’t need Deaton to explain to him what happened. He saw the truth of what happened written in the scars on Stiles’s body.

“You have a kid,” Boyd says after a moment of silence. 

“Yea,” Derek replies, a small smile dancing across his lips. “A daughter.”

“And?”

“And I know nothing about her, except her name,” Derek sighs, a hint of sadness in his voice.

“What are you going to do to change that?” Boyd asks. 

“What can I do?”

“Well,” Boyd says, brushing the dust from his arm. “Apologizing to the father of your daughter for whatever bullshit you said yesterday might be a good start.”

“Yea,” Derek agrees, thinking about the hurt and sadness that had lingered in his nose long after Stiles was gone. 

“See you later?” Boyd asks, pulling Derek into a quick hug. 

“Yeah,” Derek agrees, giving him a quick pat on the back.

Derek watches Boyd head for the door before turning back to the room. He stares at the blank walls for a moment before he smiles to himself. He had been so focused on salvaging the parts of the house he could and rebuilding the parts of the house he couldn’t that Derek had spent barely any time thinking about what each room could be. Standing in that room overlooking the backyard, Derek knows exactly what this room should be: a nursery.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Derek sits on the porch eating a sandwich and wondering if he can force the porch to collapse from his seat by pushing the pillar next to him. The front of the house was the last remaining reminder of the fire. From the porch, the house looks like the same old dilapidated mess it has been for years. Once it comes down, he will finally be able to repair the damage and re-side the house. Stiles probably hadn’t even noticed the changes Derek had already made.

Derek takes another bite of his sandwich and cocks his head to one side when hears the distant sound of a car driving along the gravel road that leads up to the house. He feels a chill run down his spine as the familiar hum of the overworked engine in the Sheriff’s police cruiser reaches his ears. For a moment Derek is scared something has happened to Stiles or even the baby. He climbs to his feet, moving off the porch hesitantly.

The car skids to a stop and the Sheriff throws open the car door.

“I never took you for a coward, Derek,” the Sheriff snaps, pointing at him violently.

“Wha…?”

“My son has your baby, and you turn your back on him. Really winning character move,” he snaps sarcastically, and Derek immediately sees where Stiles got his attitude. The Sheriff glances at the house before turning back to Derek. “I thought family meant something to you.”

Derek flinches against the verbal slap, shocked that the Sheriff would pick at that particular scab. “John, I didn’t…”

“I think now might be a good time for you to go back to calling me “sir”.”

Derek feels the color rise on his cheeks before continuing, “I didn’t know Stiles had a baby. Hell, I didn’t even know Stiles could have a baby. I swear.”

“I don’t really have a very high opinion of you right now, Derek,” John responds, coolly. “All I know is I saw my son for the first time in over a year yesterday and he had a baby in tow. A baby he says is his daughter. His daughter. And you are her father!”

“I…”

“I don’t care what you did back then. I don’t care what you said. I don’t care why you didn’t want a family with my son.”

Derek’s brains stalls: Stiles thought he didn’t want a family. No, that wasn’t right. Stiles must know how much he wanted a family with him all those months ago.

“Because you have one now,” John continues, grabbing his phone from his pocket and tapping angrily at the screen. “She’s nine months old and looks exactly like you.” 

Derek stares at the phone the Sheriff has shoved in his face, his heart melting a little at the sight of Laurie’s smiling face.

“I never said I didn’t want a family,” Derek whispers, glancing away from the photo of the little girl on John’s phone. The Sheriff arches an eyebrow at him and Derek scrambles to continue. “I swear. Yesterday...yesterday Stiles just showed up with this kid...Laurie...Stiles showed up with Laurie and I didn’t know she was...I had no reason to believe she was mine...I said some things...”

“You’re not really inspiring confidence here, Derek.”

“I accused him of cheating on me.”

John narrows his eyes at him. “Stiles is many things, but he’s never been dishonest. He has always been loyal to you. More so than you deserve.”

“I know,” Derek agrees instantly. Stiles had followed him to hell and back again multiple times without Derek ever having to ask. The accusation had felt wrong as soon as it fell from his lips. But he had been caught off guard. Angry. Confused. It had been the only thing that made sense. 

John runs his hand over his face wearily. “He’s going to leave, Derek.”

“What?” Derek asks, genuinely confused.

“I pushed this morning, trying to get some information,” the Sheriff sighs. “He got that look in his eyes. The same one you see on a suspect before you’re chasing them down the street. He said he wouldn’t be a bother for much longer.”

“But he just got here.”

“Something’s wrong, Derek. He’s scared of something, or maybe someone. I don’t know. He had a gun at the breakfast table.”

“A gun?” Derek asks bewildered. “Stiles doesn’t need a gun. He’s always been able to defend himself with magic.”

“I know,” John agrees. “But there it was. And if I had to guess, it was loaded with wolfsbane bullets.”

Derek scrunches his forehead in confusion. Why would Stiles have a gun? Derek had seen him take down monster and hunters three times his size with a flick of his fingers. He was strong and always said guns distracted him from tapping into his spark. Derek wants to kick himself, thinking of the fear he smelled on Stiles yesterday. He had assumed Stiles was afraid of him. But that didn’t make sense. Stiles hadn’t been afraid of him in years. If Derek was being honest, he doubted Stiles had had even been afraid of him. 

“If you don’t fix this, Derek, he’s going to leave again,” the Sheriff says, interrupting Derek’s thoughts. “Except this time, he’s going to take that little girl and he’s never going to come back.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Derek states, leaving no room for any argument. “If Stiles is in trouble, he’s safest here with us. ”

“I know that, but Stiles...” the Sheriff stops. “You’re not exactly his favorite person right now. He thinks you told him to leave. And then yesterday, you did it again.”

Derek winces. “I’ll fix this, John, I promise.”

“God, I hope so, Derek. I don’t know if I can deal with him disappearing again.”

When the Sheriff climbs into the police cruiser, Derek realizes John is right. If Stiles leaves again, where does that leave all of them?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,
> 
> In honor of my birthday, you get an early post and two chapters! It's finals week and I needed to do something to make me happy.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

Stiles lays in the center of the living room floor lifting Laurie above his chest and watching her giggle. 

“So, honeybee,” Stiles says. “What do you want to do today, since we promised Papa not to sneak out of town while he was working?”

Laurie gurgles at him, blowing a spit bubble in his face, as he brings her down towards his chest.

“Interesting input. I’m thinking we stay inside and hide so we don’t have to deal with the stares and invasive questioning by the locals. What do you think?”

Laurie screeches with joy as Stiles lifts her back up.

“Glad you agree,” Stiles says with a smile. He kisses her on the forehead before placing her on the floor next to him and sitting up. Stiles smiles as Laurie pushes herself up onto her hands and knees shuffling forward toward her blocks. 

Stiles reaches over to stack the blocks so Laurie could knock them back down. He pauses for a moment when he hears a knock at the door. Stiles glances at the gun on the coffee table as he struggles to his feet. He plucks Laurie from the ground, placing her securely on his hip. Since he’s not expecting any visitors, Stiles grabs the gun before walking over to the door cautiously. He pauses at the door, debating whether or not he should open it.

“Come on, man, open up! I can hear you just standing there and I really have to pee,” Scott whines, practically scratching at the door to get in. 

Stiles shakes his head as he opens the door and Scott streaks past him. Stiles closes the door and locks the deadbolt before heading into the kitchen to make Laurie a bottle. He makes sure the safety is on before he tucks the gun into the waistband of his pants. He straps Laurie into the bouncy seat next to the table, singing quietly to keep her calm.

Stiles hears Scott come out of the bathroom but continues about his business. He places her bottle in the pot before turning back towards Laurie. When he turns around, he finds Scott staring at his daughter like she’s a dangerous bomb set to explode.

“With Allison’s baby fever, I thought you would be ready to handle a baby,” Stiles says sarcastically and watches Scott jump back from the tiny hand that is reaching towards him.

“Are you ever really ready?” Scott asks, chuckling nervously.

“You sure as hell get ready when there’s a person growing inside you,” Stiles deadpans, still slightly angry at Scott for running out on him the night before. “What are you doing here, Scott?”

Scott sighs. “I came to apologize for my behavior and how I treated you and Laurie. I should have been happy to see you and not taken the very difficult decisions you had to make personally.”

“Sounds like Allison’s words,” Stiles says turning back to the stove, and plucking the bottle from the pot. “You can tell her it’s okay.”

“Come on, man,” Scott groans, coming around the counter. “I messed up. I was surprised you were back. And even more surprised you had a baby. Plus, she’s a werewolf! How was I supposed to react?”

“You could have tried not being a dick, dude. It would have gone a long way.”

“Yea,” Scott sighs. “You’re right.”

Stiles turns back with the bottle, testing the temperature against his wrist before walking towards Laurie. Laurie watches him carefully, reaching for him when he gets closer. Stiles plucks her from the seat and settles her against his chest. He places the warmed bottle in her mouth, holding it steady as she wraps her tiny hands around it. After a few moments, Stiles looks up to see Scott staring at him. 

“What?” Stiles asks.

“Dude, you have a baby,” Scott replies, eyes wide in shock as if he just realized Laurie was real.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, smiling down at his daughter as he goes to sit at the table. “Isn’t she amazing?”

“So…” Scott begins hesitantly. “Does Derek know yet?”

Stiles stares at Scott for a moment, surprised that he can be so perceptive at times. “How did you know?”

“Well, once I got my head out of my ass, I noticed Allison smelled weirdly like Derek, but also like you. But not at the same time. Kind of like that combined _DerekandStiles_ smell we all tried to ignore when you guys were going at it like rabbits.”

“Oh,” Stiles sighs, not wanting to think about the safety and comfort that came with that scent. Or all the time he buried his nose against his daughter’s head, seeking it out on the lonelier nights. 

“So does he know?”

“Yeah.” Stiles replies, transferring Laurie to his shoulder so he could burp her gently. The gun stabs him in the back as he shifts and he grunts at the pain. Without thinking, he pulls the gun out and places it on the table.

“Stiles…” Scott breathes, scrambling across the room.

“What?” Stiles asks eyeing him suspiciously before he notices the look of terror on Scott’s face as he stares at the gun that is pointed towards him.

“That’s a hunter’s gun,” Scott growls, nose twitching as the smell of wolfsbane permeates the air.

“No,” Stiles replies. “That’s a spark’s gun to keep him and his daughter safe.”

Scott eyes Stiles carefully, concern mixing with the fear on his face. “What are you talking about?” 

“I’m not here just because I missed you guys.” Stiles says and Scott scrunches his eyebrows in worry. Stiles glances down at Laurie’s drooping eyes. “Hold on. I have to put her down.”

Scott follows Stiles up the stairs to Stiles’s bedroom where he places Laurie in her bassinet by the window. He tucks the blanket around her tiny body before flicking on the baby monitor resting on his desk and gesturing for Scott to follow him back downstairs.

Once they enter the living room, Stiles begins picking up Laurie’s toys. He tosses them into the duffle bag they were packed in, just in case they need to leave quickly. 

“Stiles, stop,” Scott says gently from the doorway.

“Hold on. I just need to put some things away.”

Scott steps in front of Stiles stopping him from packing the remaining toys that he has clutched to his chest. “What’s going on, Stiles?”

“It could be nothing,” Stiles says vaguely, uncertain if he should tell Scott or if he should pack the car and get as far away as possible. “It’s this feeling…”

“You’re feelings have kept us alive before, so I’m going to say it’s not nothing,” Scott points out.

“Yeah, that’s probably true.”

Scott waits for Stiles to continue.

“I think someone has been tailing me and Laurie,” Stiles says casually, hoping his heartbeat doesn’t reveal how terrified he feels when he thinks about all the strange things that have been happening lately. 

“What do you mean tailing you?” Scott asks instantly alert.

“I don’t know. Weird things have been happening, man. I’d be out and see the same car over and over again. Or I’d get home and be unable to find things, little things, that I swear I had put away.”

“Was Lydia stress cleaning again? We all know that can happen.”

“No,” Stiles says emphatically shaking his head. “I asked her, but she never really moved Laurie’s stuff. Even if there were toys strewn across the entire living room, Lydia didn’t care about her mess. I swear Laurie has the Red Queen wrapped around her tiny little claw.”

“How long has this been going on?” Scott asks.

“A couple of months…” Stiles replies sheepishly.

“Stiles!”

“Don’t yell at me, dude!” Stiles snaps defensively. “I was trying to graduate and avoid uprooting my daughter for no reason.”

“Something changed.” 

“Yeah…” Stiles agrees though it’s not really a question. Stiles swallows thickly, knowing this is the point of no return. If Stiles tells him, there’s no way Scott will ever let him leave. But Stiles is so tired of running. And so tired of worrying that he cannot keep his daughter safe.

“Stiles!” Scott says, snapping his fingers in front of Stiles’s face to pull him out of his thoughts. 

“Sorry,” Stiles mumbles. “I set up some wards around Lydia’s place, just to see if anything would trip them. A few days ago, when Lydia and I were out with Laurie, something set off one of the wards. I left Laurie with Lydia at the park and when I got back to the house, there was no one there. But…”

“But what?” Scott asks nervously, bouncing on his toes while he waits for Stiles to continue.

“There was blood smeared all over Laurie’s room. In her crib. On the changing table. Even on the walls.”

“Oh my god,” Scott breathes, horror written all over his face. “Blood?”

“Lydia and I packed up everything we could and left that night,” Stiles ends with, sagging into the couch with exhaustion. 

“Do you know who it was?” Scott asks urgently “Or what it was?”

Stiles shakes his head, shame heating his face. 

“Didn’t you do an identification spell?”

“Of course I did, Scott,” Stiles snaps. “But my spark...it’s been a little unpredictable lately.”

“Unpredictable?”

“I can’t quite…I haven’t been…” Stiles stutters in frustration. “Sometimes it works and sometimes I just come up empty. The identification spell didn’t work.”

“Hence the gun?”

Stiles nods and opens his mouth to answer when he hears a slight thump on the ceiling above him. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes,” Scott hisses around his fangs, as Stiles scoops up the gun and runs for the stairs.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,
> 
> In honor of my birthday, you get an early post and two chapters! It's finals week and I needed to do something to make me happy.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

Derek hesitates outside Stiles’s window, wondering what he’s doing here. He’s pretty sure sneaking into Stiles’s house is not the first step to fixing things. It’s probably not even in the top ten. But that doesn’t seem to be stopping him as he unlatches the window carefully, an act that comes easy even after all the years of using the front door. Derek climbs through the window and drops to the floor, landing slightly louder than he intended. 

Derek stops short at the sound of the quiet, quick heartbeat that fills the room. He turns around soundlessly, his eyes falling on the bassinet. He steps carefully across the room and looks down at the tiny baby who watches him with wide eyes. 

“Hi,” Derek whispers as he reaches out a hand instinctively and adjusts her blanket. He pulls back his hand and stops when little fingers close around his pinky. Derek stares down at Laurie, completely enamored with the little girl that is smiling up at him. He can barely hear himself breathe over the thudding of his heart. She’s perfect in every way: from her tiny fingers to her little toes. She flashes her little golden eyes at him and Derek can’t help the smile that spreads across his face.

Derek startles when the bedroom door slams open without warning. His eyes fall on the gun that is trained on him, and he dives to the side just as a bullet flies towards him. Before he even hits the ground, Derek is slammed back into the wall. His vision blurs as his head connects with the wall, creating a small hole. The last thing he sees is someone leaning over Laurie’s crib before he succumbs to his fading vision.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“I think that was a little excessive.”

“I reacted to seeing a stranger standing over my daughter's crib. I think it was warranted.”

“Dude, you knocked him out!”

“L...Laurie,” Derek groans, hoping to make the bickering stop. He tries to stand again but falls back down.

“Calm down,” Stiles says insistently, pressing him to the floor. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Allison’s here,” Scott says quietly.

“Okay, can you guys take her for a couple hours?”

“No,” Derek begs, panic flaring in his chest as he sags further into the ground.

“You don’t really get a say, big guy,” Stiles snarks and Derek feels a hand press him further into the ground.

“Why is Derek on the floor?” Allison’s voice sounds far away.

“Because creeperwolf snuck in and scared my daughter.”

“She was fine, Stiles. She was laughing even. Especially when the sparks started flying,” Scott sighs. 

“That’s not the point,” Stiles snaps. “Ally, can you take Laurie for a few hours? Some Auntie Ally bonding time, maybe?”

“Sure…” Allison says confused. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

“Yea,” Stiles continues, though Derek hears the lie in his heartbeat. “Besides, Melissa wants to meet her. Just don’t leave Scott alone with her.”

“Hey!”

“Dude, you vacillate between looking at her likes she’s a bomb and a puppy. Neither really inspire confidence.” 

“Come on, babe,” Allison says gently. Derek pries his eyes open, in time to see Allison carrying Laurie and dragging Scott out of the bedroom. 

“Her diaper bag is by the doorway and you can grab some bottles from the fridge!” Stiles calls after them.

“Where is she taking her? And what did you do to me?” Derek groans finally able to climb to his feet. 

“Laurie doesn’t like when I yell, so she’s going to go get to know her Auntie Allison and Uncle Scott for a bit.”

“Yell?” Derek asks, still a bit groggy as the concussion continues to heal.

“Yes, Derek, yell” Stiles replies his voice rising. “Have you ever heard of the front door? No, of course not! You had to sneak in through the window.”

Derek glances at the wall above the bassinet and sees a bullet hole. 

“Did you try to shoot me?” Derek asks, partially incredulous but also mildly impressed at the lengths Stiles would go to keep Laurie safe. He can appreciate a shoot first ask questions later mentality when it comes to family.

“Sort of, but that’s not the point!” Stiles falters, his eyes sliding over to the desk. Derek turns and stares down at the misshapen metal resting on the corner of the desk. He walks over to the desk and picks it up, turning it over in his hand.

“Stiles,” Derek breaths, turning back to him. “You melted a gun.”

“It misfired,” Stiles says defensively, starting to back away. “I didn’t intentionally try to shoot you. Nice reflexes by the way. They probably saved your life. That concentration of wolfsbane would have almost definitely killed you. And that would have sucked. A lot. Sorry about that by the way…”

“Stiles, how did you melt a gun?” Derek asks carefully, taking a small step towards him. He can tell that Stiles is building himself up into a panic, the scent of anxiety leaching out of him and filling the room.

“I don’t…” Stiles falters looking down at his hands like they betrayed him. Derek sucks in a short breath to keep the pain from blooming in his heart. The last time he saw that look on Stiles’s face was after the Nogitsune had been banished. 

“Count them,” Derek says so quietly it sounds more like a rumble than words.

“What?” Stiles asks, eyes wide landing on Derek’s face.

“This isn’t a dream. Prove it to yourself. Count your fingers.”

“I’m fine,” Stiles lies, shoving his hands in his pockets. “This isn’t the point of this conversation. The point is that you can’t just come here and...”

“Stiles!” Derek growls, unable to focus on anything but Stiles’s distress. He crosses the room to and tugs Stiles’s hands from his pockets

“Fine!” Stiles pulling his hands out of Derek’s grasp. Derek watches him tap each finger to his thumb twice before he begins to calm down.

“Better?” Derek asks, gently.

“Yeah,” Stiles says running a hand over his tired face.

“So you melted a gun and almost killed me?” Derek asks, knowing he’ll get a clearer answer this time.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says sincerely and Derek can hear the truth of it in his steady heartbeat. “My spark...It’s been...it’s unstable. When I saw you standing over Laurie, I panicked and before I knew it…”

“Bang?” Derek asks with a smirk and Stiles finches.

“Yea, bang and then boom,” Stiles says, looking down sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to throw you into a wall. Excess energy sort of got away from me. How’s your head?”

“I’ll heal,” Derek dismisses, looking at the gun in his hands. “Why do you have a gun, Stiles?”

“Because I need to protect my daughter,” Stiles replies, glaring at Derek defiantly. It’s a look that is one part exhaustion, two parts anger, and all parts defensive. Derek knows better than to contradict Stiles, even if John hadn’t warned him something was going on. 

“What do you have to protect her from?” Derek asks as he slides into the chair by the desk.

Stiles sags in defeat and sinks down onto the edge of the bed, but doesn’t respond. There is a long moment of silence before Stiles whispers something so quietly, Derek has to ask him to repeat himself. 

“Why are you here, Derek?” Stiles asks louder, finally meeting Derek’s eyes.

“Your dad came to see me this morning.”

“I told him not to do that,” Stiles groans. “I’m sorry, Derek. I told him not to bother you.”

“Bother me?” Derek asks. “Stiles, he wasn’t bothering me.”

“Listen, Der,” Stiles sighs, and Derek’s heart skips a beat hearing the nickname fall so easily from Stiles’s lips. 

“It’s okay. Sure I was upset yesterday, but I’ve had some time to think about it. I mean Laurie’s great. Wonderful even. She’s the best thing that has ever happened to me. But I’m not going to make you be part of her life. We’ll be leaving soon and...”

“Stiles,” Derek interrupts, not knowing how to deconstruct Stiles’s misconceptions about his desires to be part of Laurie’s life. “I’m here and I want to be. So I’m asking: what are you running from?”

“So many things, Sourwolf,” Stiles smirks to cover his surprise. “Currently though, the possibly homicidal maniacs that are after me and my daughter.”

It takes all of Derek’s self-control not to wolf out while he listens to Stiles explain the unusual things that have been occurring. At first, Derek thinks the sketchy cars and feeling like they were being watched is just Stiles’s general paranoia that never really faded after the Nogitsune attacks. The misplaced items in his and Lydia’s home could just be the exhaustion of raising a baby.

“Maybe there’s an explanation,” Derek offers hesitantly not wanting to offend Stiles.

“Do you really think I would drag my daughter and Lydia out of town on just an off feeling and a couple of missing baby items?” Stiles snaps. “I chalked it up to my own paranoia until the bloody bedroom happened. That was the last straw.”

“Bloody bedroom?”

“Yes, bloody bedroom,” Stiles repeats, pulling his phone from his pocket. He taps on the screen for a moment before tossing the phone to Derek.

Derek looks down at the screen and instantly sees red. If Stiles hadn’t told him it was blood, Derek might be tempted to think there was red paint splattered across the room. The blood drips across nearly every surface, pooling on the floor near the crib. Derek swipes to the next picture a closeup of a mobile with three little pigs chasing a wolf. The next picture shows the wall behind the mobile in focus. Derek growls as he reads the words painted above the image of a dead dog. Abomination. Mutt. Bitch.

“Easy, big guy, please don’t snap my phone in half,” Stiles says, while gently taking the phone from Derek’s clawed hand. “Lydia and I left that night. If they could get into the house and leave without a trace, there was no telling what they can do to my daughter.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Derek growls, angry that someone was trying to hurt them and he wasn’t there to protect them.

“Yea, how exactly would that phone call have gone?” Stiles asks, looming over Derek. “‘Hey, Derek, sorry I haven’t talked to you in a year, but someone or something is trying to kill our daughter. You know the one that I failed to actually tell you about because you said you didn’t want children?”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Derek snaps standing so quickly that the chair topples over behind him and Stiles stumbles back. 

“Saying what?” 

“Saying I don’t want kids, ” Derek clarifies, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself. “Your dad said you told him I didn’t want you. Stiles, if I ever did anything to make you doubt…”

“Derek, it’s okay,” Stiles dismisses. “You didn’t exactly ask for a pregnant boyfriend. Trust me you were right to not want to deal with it. I was absolutely horrible when I was pregnant. Swollen ankles, weird cravings, vomiting everywhere. Well, I guess you were around for that part ...” 

“Stiles,” Derek snaps, cutting off his ramble before he can get any further. “Where did you get this idea in your head that I don’t want a family? I know I was messed up when we first met, but I thought you knew I was doing better. I wanted to have a family. I thought I had that with you.” 

“I...What?” Stiles asks bewildered.

“We talked about the future all the time, Stiles, did you really think children weren’t apart of that?”

“I…” Stiles stammers. “But you thanked god I couldn’t get pregnant. You said we didn’t need that kind of trouble.” 

Derek stares at Stiles thoroughly confused until he remembers the night before Stiles left: how sick he smelled, the panic during that conversation, how distant he was afterward. 

“That’s why you left?” Derek nearly yells. “God, Stiles, things were finally good. No one was attacking us. My betas were getting along with Scott’s pack. Your dad didn’t think I was a murderer or a felon. Things were good. I didn’t want anything to upset that.”

“And if I had stayed, everything would’ve been ruined. You would have done the noble thing. I didn’t want to be another person that forced you into something you didn’t want, Derek.”

“But I wanted it, Stiles, God did I want it,” Derek sighs running his hand over his face as all the anger drains from his body. “I wanted the weird cravings and swollen ankles. I wanted to take care of you while you were sick. I wanted _our_ daughter. But you decided I didn’t get to have that.”

Derek stares at Stiles for a moment listening to the pounding of Stiles’s heart, before he turns around and rights the chair. Derek brushes past stiles towards the door and is halfway across the room before Stiles stops him.

“I’m sorry, Derek,” Stiles says, almost as if he’s begging Derek to believe him. “I thought...I didn’t think thank…”

“Exactly, Stiles, you didn’t think,” Derek sighs. “You ran without thinking about anyone but yourself.”

Stiles flinches against the accusation, and the small part of Derek that remembers how good revenge feels is happy that he can hurt Stiles this way. But there’s a larger part of him that wants to forgive Stiles. He knows that Stiles is sorry, can see it in the anguish painted across his expression and hear it in his steady heartbeat. But the thought of missing the first nine months of his daughter’s life is clouding Derek’s mind. 

“I have to go,” Derek says carefully, not trusting himself to continue. Derek looks at Stiles for one more second before he turns and heads down the stairs. When he reaches the front door, he hears the shuddery breath that Stiles takes and knows he is crying. Derek hesitates for a moment, before closing the door behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am double sorry today. First, I'm sorry this is late. I was flying across the US yesterday and completely forgot to post. Second, this is not my favorite chapter, and I don't know how to fix it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy none the less.
> 
> Thank you for all the birthday wishes last week :) your comments and kudos were wonderful presents.

Stiles climbs into the Jeep and glances into the rearview mirror to see if his face is still blotchy from the hours he spent sobbing into his daughter’s blanket. When Allison had called and asked if he wanted to pick up Laurie from Melissa’s house where they were already planning on eating dinner, Stiles had readily agreed. He had spent a better part of the afternoon vacillating between regret and anger. Regret for keeping Derek from their daughter for no reason, and anger towards himself for acting so irrationally. Stiles takes a deep breath before turning on the car and backing out of the driveway. 

What would his life had been like if he hadn’t been so selfish? Would Derek really have taken care of him? Taken care of Laurie? Stiles can’t help picturing Derek doting on him as he grows rounder and rounder with their daughter. Stiles is so lost in thought he barely has enough time to react when a black SUV darts off a side street and cuts him off.

“What the hell?” Stiles yells, correcting his course as the SUV blows through the red light in front of him. Stiles comes to a stop, knowing his father would strangle him for running a red light despite the fact that no cars are coming. Stiles rubs at the bruise already forming across his chest from the seat belt as he breathes a sigh of relief that Laurie wasn’t in the car. “Fucking maniacs.”

Stiles turns at the light and remains on high alert for the last few minutes of the drive. He pulls into Melissa’s driveway and parks behind his dad’s cruiser. As he climbs out of the car, he hears the door to the house open and looks up to see Melissa standing there with Laurie on her hip. Stiles feels relieved for the first time in hours when he sees his daughter and rushes over to her. 

“This one was just starting to miss her daddy,” Melissa calls out as Stiles gets closer. 

“Hi, honeybee,” Stiles breathes when he gets close enough to pluck Laurie out of Melissa’s arms. He peppers kisses all over her face and Laurie laughs. Stiles breathes in the comforting baby scent from the crown of her head and feels himself relax as she snuggles against his neck.

“I don’t think she missed you quite as much as I did though,” Melissa says to Stiles, smiling at him fondly. Stiles folds himself into her arms so she can squeeze him tightly. She releases him after a moment, still keeping him close so she can look him in the eye. “Are you back for good or for now?”

“For now,” Stiles replies honestly, feeling a pang of sadness when Melissa frowns. “It’s too early to commit to for good.”

“Fair enough,” Melissa agrees, before pulling him inside. “Now the information you’re actually interested in. Your father has been keeping to his diet, mostly. I had to have a stern conversation with some new deputies, but we’re all on the same page now.”

Stiles laughs before wrapping an arm around Melissa’s shoulder. “I had no doubts knowing you were looking after him.”

They head to the dining room where Scott and Jackson are setting the table, while Lydia and Allison carry the food in from the kitchen. 

“Where’s Dad?” Stiles asks scanning the room. 

“Back porch,” Lydia informs him. “Someone called just before you arrived.”

Stiles nods before offering to help. “Is there anything else in the kitchen?”

“Just take that baby and sit down,” Melissa orders. “We’ve got this.”

Stiles sits in the chair next to what he assumes is Scott’s old high chair. He holds Laurie’s little hands letting her push against his legs as she tries to stand. “Daddy missed you, little girl,” Stiles whispers to her. “Did you have fun with Auntie Ally and Uncle Scott?”

“Yes, we did,” Scott says pulling up the chair across from him. “And I didn’t even do anything wrong, right, Ally?”

“Sure, sweetie,” Allison agrees, kissing Scott on the head before taking the seat next to him.

“What did you do today?” Stiles asks Laurie, who smiles at him as she stands on wobbly legs. 

“We went to the park this morning, and then met Lydia and Jackson for lunch,” Allison offers. 

“And then you came and met Baba Melissa, didn’t you, love?” Melissa says from behind Stiles as she reaches out a hand to stroke Laurie head. Stiles’s eyes moisten at the Polish term for a grandmother, and the subtle scent marking. Melissa smiles down at him and gives his shoulder a squeeze, knowing what he’s thinking. “She helped me cook.”

“Oh she did, did she?” Stiles asks amusedly.

“You know? Cook. Play with her Cheerios. Same thing.”

Stiles shakes his head as he straps Laurie into the highchair and places some dry pasta in front of her. She whimpers when he pulls away. Stiles smiles at her reassuringly, having expected her to be a little fussy. Considering it was the longest that she had ever been without him, Stiles thinks she did a good job. He offers her a finger to hold and Laurie grabs hold.

“Sorry about that,” John apologizes as he comes in through the kitchen and walks towards the head of the table.

“Did you turn it off?” Melissa asks from the opposite end.

“Mel, I’m the Sheriff. I can’t just turn it off.” Melissa gives him an unwavering look until he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Fine, I’ll put it on vibrate, okay?”

Melissa nods before picking up the string beans, piling some on her plate and passing them to Jackson. Stiles and Scott lock eyes and raise their eyebrows, wondering how long it will take for their parents to admit that they’re a couple. They laugh quietly as everyone begins to help themselves to food; Stiles a little bit hindered by Laurie’s death grip on his pinky. 

“So, Stiles, what did you do today?” Lydia asks, pulling the fried chicken out of the Sheriff’s hands after he takes a piece. John frowns at her but picks up the salad bowl in front of him.

“Oh you know, just stuff,” Stiles replies vaguely not wanting to be caught in a lie by the werewolves, law enforcement officers or maternal figures in his life; all of them somehow equally likely to be able to tell when he’s lying. “Enjoyed my first baby free day in a while.”

“Lie,” Scott laughs. “You missed her.”

Stiles smiles down at his daughter and kisses her on the head. “Of course, I did. She’s perfect. Was she good for you guys?”

“Yup,” Allison nods, “She was a little fussy in the afternoon but perked up when we saw Lydia.”

“That’s because she loves her Auntie Lydia, don’t you sweetie?” Lydia coos at Laurie from her other side. Stiles laughs at the look of horror on Jackson’s face, and Lydia rolls her eyes at him as she cuts some string beans and places them on Laurie’s tray. “Calm down, Jackson, sleeping with you every now and then does not translate to impregnate me.”

John chokes on his food a little while the pack laughs, and Jackson turns beet-red. Melissa shakes her head from the head of the table, no longer surprised by Lydia’s bluntness. 

“So who wants to catch me up on everything that’s been going on?” Stiles asks when everyone calms down. An uncomfortable silence falls over the table, a reminder of Stiles’s absence. After a brief moment of silence, Scott clears his throat and Stiles sighs in relief. 

“Well, I have a pretty funny story about a witch, a troll, and a fairy that walk into a bar,” Scott says, with a laugh. “I know it sounds like a bad joke, but I swear it’s better than that.”

“Oh god, don’t tell him that,” Allison says, a blush heating her face. “It’s so embarrassing!”

“Now you have to tell me,” Stiles says with a laugh, glancing over at Laurie to make sure she’s eating.

“Well…”

Stiles listens for most of the dinner, happy to be told of the many adventures of the McCall pack. Some of them even Lydia failed to mention when she returned from her trips home to Beacon Hills. He laughs at all the right parts and tries not to cringe when they mention Derek and his pack. He looks at all their laughing faces and feels the pang of loss in his chest for the time they were apart. He’s missed so much of their lives and after talking with Derek, Stiles is starting to realize it was unnecessary. But he had been so sure he was unwanted. So sure that if he stayed, his baby would become a burden, instead of the wonderful gift she was. 

At the end of dinner, Stiles plucks his little girl from the high chair before she can fall asleep in her food. He heads to the bathroom to clean her face and hands before building a pillow fort in the center of Melissa’s bed. He hesitates for a moment before peeling off his flannel and placing it in the center of the fort. He carefully lays Laurie on top of it, knowing the smell will comfort her if she wakes up in the strange room. Stiles closes the door behind him gently, leaving it cracked so they’ll be able to hear her, and goes back towards the dining room. 

Stiles pauses by the back door, listening to the laughter before he pushes out into the night. He stands at the railing looking out across the backyard, smiling at the memories of roughhousing with Scott in their childhood and cringing at the sight of the swingset where he fell and broke his arm. Stiles breathes in the crisp autumn air trying to calm his racing minds. He stays out there for a long time until his fingers are numb and he can no longer feel the cold. 

“I was wondering where you went,” Lydia says gently, as she drops a blanket around his shoulders and then tugs in his arms until she can tuck herself against his chest for warmth. Stiles wraps the blanket around both of them and huffs at Lydia’s hair when it tickles his nose. “Want to tell me what really happened today?”

“I almost killed, Derek,” Stiles whispers.

Lydia nods slowly, “Scott told us. Your control’s getting worse.”

“I know,” Stiles agrees. “The bullet barely missed him, and if that’s not bad enough, I gave him a concussion by throwing him into a wall.”

“It might be time to go see Deaton, Stiles,” Lydia says carefully, knowing how often they had fought about this over the last few months.

“I know, Lyds,” Stiles agrees, hugging her tightly to his chest. He’s not sure where he would be if it wasn’t for the magnificent redhead in his arms. Falling out of love with Lydia Martin was one of the best things he ever did. In the past few months, she had become his best friend and confidant and Stiles wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Did you talk to Derek?”

Stiles nods, knowing she can feel it on top of her head. “I told him what happened in Berkeley. He was angry I didn’t call him.”

“Oh?” Lydia asked.

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees though his heart isn’t in it. Lydia pushes away from the railing to turn around and face Stiles, searching his face for answers. 

“Something happened.”

“You could say that.”

“Please tell me you didn’t sleep with him.”

“God, Lyds,” Stiles scoffs. “Of course not.”

“Well, that’s good,” she replies matter of factly, tugging him back towards her as she shivers. “So what happened?”

“He said…” Stiles begins but chokes on the words. “He said he wanted Laurie from the beginning. That I misunderstood and kids were always part of our future. Essentially, I kept him from his daughter for nine months because I’m a monster.”

“Stiles, that’s not true,” Lydia assures him, resting a hand on his cheek to wipe away the stray tears.

“Isn’t it though?” Stiles snaps. “There was no reason for me to leave except my own insecurities and bullshit. Maybe I deserve what’s happening right now.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I took her away from her father. Maybe I deserve to be terrified that someone is going to take her from me.”

Lydia remains quiet for a moment, almost as if she doesn’t want to justify his statement with a response. “You did what you thought you had to do,” she settles on diplomatically. “Derek will understand that.”

“You didn’t see the way he looked at me, Lydia,” Stiles breathes out shakily.

“He’ll forgive you. You’re Derek and Stiles. That man is so in love with you, he makes the rest of us look bad. He’ll forgive you,” Lydia states with such finality it’s difficult to argue with her.

“He was so in love with me,” Stiles emphasizes before turning back to the yard. “Things change.”

“If you think Derek Hale can fall out of love with you, you’re an idiot,” Lydia snaps. “He loved you long before you worked out your sexual confusion and he’ll love you long after this. It’s just a hiccup, Stiles.”

“A hiccup, Lyds, really?” Stiles groans. “Taking away his child is a little worse than a hiccup!”

“Well, I’m not going to say you were right to run away in the middle of the night, but I think you’ve known that for a long time, Stiles,” Lydia sighs.

Stiles sighs, knowing she’s right per usual. When Stiles doesn’t respond, he feels a gentle hand on his arm.

“Listen, why don’t you come inside?” Lydia says with a gentle tug. “Nothing can be solved tonight and everyone’s having dessert while playing keep away from John.”

Stiles shakes his head with a small smile. “I think I’ll stay out here a little longer to clear my head, but you go inside.”

Lydia is so quiet that Stiles thinks she left. He startles at the small tug on his arm as Lydia wraps his arms and the blanket around their shoulders again. Stiles gives her a tight squeeze, grateful for her presence, and Lydia presses back against his chest firmly. As they stand there together, staring out into the darkness, Stiles can’t help but wonder what is coming for them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all,
> 
> Here's the next installment!
> 
> Thanks for all the kind words after last weeks chapter :)

Derek walks out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped low around his hips. He takes a deep breath, glad that the scent of Stiles that had lingered on his skin is finally gone. He tries to clear his head as he searches his drawers for sweatpants and a henley. He can’t stop thinking about Stiles. Stubborn, stupid Stiles. So obviously afraid, but refusing to actually ask for help. Derek pulls on his pants, pausing when he hears his pack exit the elevator. He tugs his shirt over his head as Isaac shuffles down the hallway followed by the click-clack of Erica’s heels. He walks towards the door, listening for Boyd’s bearly soundless steps. Derek pulls open the door before Isaac can even knock.

“Hey, Derek,” Isaac says quietly, dropping his hand to his side. 

Hi,” Derek replies, stepping back to let him enter.

“I’m mad at you, Derek Hale,” Erica hisses, as she teeters on her ridiculously high heels. Derek reaches out to grab her arm, steadying her.

“Seven months pregnant and still wearing those shoes,” Derek says with a smile. 

“Don’t change the subject,” Erica snaps, wagging a finger in his face. “My husband has been hiding something from me for days and I blame you.”

“Leave it alone, babe,” Boyd murmurs as he leads her past Derek into the apartment. 

“Days, Derek! You know we have a no secret policy in our relationship!” she calls over her shoulder as Derek closes the door.

“It’s been less than twenty-four hours, babe,” Boyd whispers. 

Derek laughs silently when he hears Erica grumble something that sounds suspiciously like “It feels like days”. He stands by the door for a moment, taking a deep breath to prepare himself. He knows it’s time to tell Erica and Isaac that Stiles is back in town. It’s a miracle they haven’t figured it out for themselves already. The longer he waits to tell them, the more likely they are to run into Stiles in town. Knowing that would be the coward's way out, Derek takes one more deep breath before heading deeper into the apartment. 

Derek follows the sound of his pack until he finds Boyd and Isaac in the living room. He glances down and sees Erica’s shoes abandoned beside the couch.

“Where’s Erica?” Derek asks, dropping into an armchair.

“The baby is apparently sitting on her bladder,” Boyd explains.

“So what’s going on?” Isaac asks, from where he’s sitting across from Derek. “Erica’s been complaining nonstop, and we all know Boyd only keeps things from her for one reason. You.”

Derek glances at Boyd, who shrugs, before turning back to Isaac. “Let’s wait for Erica to get back.”

“Derek!” Erica screeches from the hallway, causing everyone to jump to their feet and run towards the bathroom in a panic. Erica is standing in the doorway of Derek’s room; still as a statue and with her eyes glowing amber. She has her face pressed against the shoulder of Derek’s jacket, right where Stiles had touched him so many hours ago. “Where is he?”

“Erica…”

“Where is he?” she screams, her teeth lengthening in a snarl. Derek takes a deep breath, listening to the rapid heartbeats coming from inside Erica’s rounded belly.

“Erica, calm down,” he says gently. “The twins are getting agitated.”

“Don’t talk to me about the twins!” Erica screeches. “Where is he?” 

“What’s going on?” Isaac asks, from where he remains crouched defensively. He sniffs at the air searching for any threat that would upset his packmate. Derek sees the moment he catches Stiles scent, as his golden eyes widen in surprise. Isaac rushes forward, ripping the jacked out of Erica’s hands. He glares at Derek. “Stiles?”

Derek curses himself for forgetting to put the jacket away. He had been so concerned about Stiles’s scent on his skin that he hadn’t thought it would linger everywhere else. Erica had probably smelled it as soon as she had passed his bedroom. 

“I’ll find him myself,” Erica snaps, sick of waiting for an answer. She stalks towards the door. 

“No!” Derek yells, forcing every ounce of his power as Alpha into that single word. Erica shudders to a halt, glaring at Derek menacingly. He had failed to take into account Erica’s reaction to Stiles returning. Although she was never silent like Boyd, she was just as strong. But Stiles leaving had taken its toll on her. Glancing around, Derek realizes Stiles’s leaving had taken its toll on everyone. “Everyone, just calm down.”

“Calm down?” Erica hisses, rubbing a hand over her stomach. Derek winces knowing his yelling agitated the babies further. “Don’t you dare tell me to calm down!”

Boyd is at her side in an instant, leading her to the couch and gently pushing her down. He falls next to her, rubbing a hand over her stomach in an effort to calm the babies.

“Derek?” Isaac whispers. He holds the jacket gently in his hands, staring at it for a moment before looking back at Derek. Isaac’s subtle way of demanding answers was always more effective than Erica’s outbursts.

“Stiles is in town,” Derek sighs. 

“Why isn’t he here?” Erica asks, grimacing as she forces a pillow behind her back.

“It’s complicated, babe,” Boyd whispers against her hair as he continues to rub her stomach soothingly. 

“Complicated how?” she demands, looking between Boyd and Derek.

“Stiles...Stiles has a daughter,” Derek elaborates, the words still feeling foreign on his tongue. 

“A daughter?” Erica’s face scrunches in confusion, clearly trying to figure out how that’s possible.

“That’s not the whole truth,” Boyd points out, always keeping Derek honest.

“Her name is Laurie. Stiles says she’s mine. Ours. She’s ours. Mine and his.”

“Laurie?” Erica asks slowly, trying to wrap her head around the knowledge. 

“Yes, Laurie,” Derek repeats, pushing through despite the way his heart clenches every time he utters her name. “Stiles thinks they’re in trouble. He only came back because someone was after him in Berkeley.”

“He was at school this whole time?” Boyd asks.

“I don’t know,” Derek admits. “All I know is he’s been living with Lydia for a few months and…”

“Lydia knew?” Erica screeches, pushing herself to her feet angrily.

“Honey, the babies…” Boyd begins hesitantly, trying to get her to sit back down.

Erica swats at his hand, as she begins to pace. “I talk to Lydia ever week, and she didn’t tell me! A baby and she didn’t tell me! She lied to me! I asked her if she had heard from Stiles and he was right there with her! I’ll kill her, I swear to God…”

“You will do no such thing,” Boyd says gently, stepping in front of her so she’ll stop.

“A baby, Boyd,” she whispers her voice catching on the word. “Batman has a baby.”

“I know.”

“He was alone.”

“He had Lydia,” he reminds her.

Erica scoffs. “Anyone who thinks that Stiles let Lydia in a moment before he was absolutely desperate is delusional. Batman fights his battles alone.”

“You’re probably right,” Derek agrees. “But he’s here now, and he may actually be in a lot of trouble.”

“And we’re going to help him?” Isaac asks, bitterness dripping from his voice. Derek, Erica, and Boyd turn to where Isaac is standing still staring at the jacket. 

“Yes, whether he asks or not, we’re going to help him,” Derek says carefully. It’s been years since Isaac has shown so much malice, and Derek is uncertain how to handle it; one of the many things he had left to Stiles, knowing he would be able to help.

“But he left,” Isaac snaps. “He walked away and he just left.”

The unspoken _me_ hangs in the air, and Derek knows what Isaac means. The desire to just walk away from Stiles and leave him burns at the back of Derek’s mind. A taste of his own medicine. But ever since that little girl flashed her eyes at him, Derek knew that option was gone. 

“They’re pack. Both of them,” Derek reminds him. “We protect our own, Isaac.”

“Pack?” Isaac scoffs. “You’re kidding me, right? Stiles cut us out of his life!”

“I know, Isaac.”

“He doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘pack’. He drove out of town and didn’t look back and now that he’s in trouble we’re just supposed to help him?” 

“Yes,” Derek replies without hesitation. “That part isn’t up for debate.” 

Isaac pauses for a moment. “Why aren’t you angry?”

“I’m furious,” Derek says in a carefully controlled voice. “But I can’t just let someone possibly hunt a baby in our territory and get away with it.”

“So let McCall handle it!” Isaac yells. “Stiles never should’ve even been our problem to begin with.”

“Isaac,” Boyd nearly whispers in warning, as he eyes Derek carefully. Derek takes a deep breath to calm his anger, knowing that Isaac is hurting. It took months for Isaac to get over Stiles leaving and within seconds Derek had ripped that wound open again. Isaac shakes his head and drops the jacket on the couch before turning towards the door.

“Isaac, where are you going?” Derek asks.

“Away from here,” Isaac snaps while he tugs his scarf around his neck. Boyd moves to stop him as he storms towards the door, but Derek holds out a hand. Derek watches Isaac open the door and winces when he slams it shut behind him.

“You knew he wasn’t going to take it well,” Boyd reminds Derek.

“I know,” Derek agrees, sagging into the couch. He rubs his hands over his face tiredly, hoping the earth will just swallow him whole so he doesn’t have to deal with any of this. 

“So what’s the plan?” Erica asks.

“The plan is for you to take care of yourself and the babies,” Derek replies.

Erica stares at Derek with her hands on her hips. Even with her rounded belly, she’s as intimidating at the day Derek turned her. “Stiles is in danger,” Erica snaps. “What is the plan?”

“Stiles was always in charge of the planning,” Derek breathes, exhaustion hitting him like a train. “For now, we keep an eye out for anything weird. Whoever is after Stiles might have followed him here. My guess is they’re hunters. They don’t seem very fond of the baby werewolf Stiles has been raising.”

“And?” Erica demands tapping her foot.

“And I’ll check in with Scott and the Sheriff, but Stiles hasn’t officially asked for our help so we have to keep it discrete.”

“But he’s ours,” Erica whines, her territorial nature growing worse with each passing month of pregnancy.

“Not anymore,” Derek replies, though it breaks his heart. “Our primary concern is to keep him safe in order to keep Laurie safe. She’s ours by blood. Even Stiles can’t change that.”

“But…”

“And keep your distance, Erica,” Derek orders. “He’ll come see you when he’s ready, okay?”

Erica glares at him for a few more moments before relenting. Derek lets his head fall against the back of the couch as he rubs his eyes. Nothing in Beacon Hills had ever been easy, but Derek is sure things are about to get a whole lot more complicated.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,
> 
> I want to first thank you for you patience, especially those of you that have been waiting for months for an update and only receiving radio silence. There are many reasons that I haven't updated in a while. I'm feeling more inspired lately and I may have found the next portion of this story, so I started to write again. I'm not sure if I will be able to commit to regular updates, but I will try my best to update as often as I can. I hope you can all understand, and you still enjoy this story as it progresses.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, even though it was a long time coming.

Stiles pulls into a parking spot in front of the rundown vet clinic, turns off the Jeep, and slumps back against the seat. Without the rumble of the ancient engine that is likely more duct tape than metal to fill the air, Stiles is deafened by the silence. As Stiles climbs out of the car, he’s not even positive the quirky vet will be in this early on a Saturday. But he’s desperate. 

“You’re getting too heavy for this, honeybee,” Stiles groans as he lugs the car seat out of the backseat. He gets a sleepy little mumble in response as Laurie snuggles down among her blankets.

Stiles pauses outside the door to the clinic, wondering if he should even be here. He was never particularly close with Deaton, even though he trained him. Magic had come easily to Stiles, healing people was second nature and protecting those he loves a reflex almost like breathing. Working with Deaton had been a technicality, based mostly on having access to the vet's impressive collection of magical books. Stiles pushes open the door and the sound of the chime above the door fills the empty waiting room as the door slams shut. Stiles hesitates unsure if he should call out for Deaton or make a break for his car. 

“Mr. Stilinski?” Deaton asks, coming from the back and eliminating all possibilities of escape. 

“Hey,” Stiles says with a little wave, trying to keep Laurie’s weight balanced against his own so he doesn’t drop her again. Deaton glances down at Laurie and up at Stiles with widened eyes.

“I think you better come in the back,” Deaton says, lifting the counter and stepping to the side to let Stiles pass.

Stiles nods and walks through the doorway into the back rooms. He places Laurie on top of a stainless steel counter and tucks her blankets around her more securely. When he turns around, Deaton is staring at him. 

“So, I’m back,” Stiles says to break the ice as he pushes himself up onto the table to sit next to Laurie.

“I can see that,” Deaton replies pulling up a stool to sit in front of him. “Last I saw you, you were speeding out of town in the middle of the night with half my herbal stores in your trunk.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says sheepishly. “Sorry about that. I’ll replace it all. I swear.”

“It’s fine, Mr. Stilinski, you didn’t take anything I couldn’t replace.”

Stiles nods more to himself than to Deaton, as he fusses with Laurie’s blankets some more. 

“So I had a baby,” Stiles says, nonchalantly.

“Mmhmm,” Deaton agrees, almost bored. Stiles glances over at Deaton, surprised to see Deaton’s unimpressed look. 

“But you knew that,” Stiles realizes. 

“Scott told me how sick you were,” Deaton offers as an explanation. “I thought you would come to me sooner. When you left, I figured you had your reasons.”

Stiles stares at him in shock until his anger rises the surface and knocks him out of his stupor. “You knew I could get pregnant and didn’t think you should mention it?”

“I tried to explain to you on a number of occasions that there is no limit to your power, Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton points out as if that absolves him from taking on any blame. 

“No limit to your power does not translate to you can grow a uterus,” Stiles whispers fiercely, not wanting to wake Laurie.

“I forget how young Derek was when his family was taken from him. He knows so little,” Deaton responds, absentmindedly.

“Woah, no, no, no,” Stiles says holding out his hands. “You do not get to blame Derek for this. This is not his fault. He had no way of knowing this would happen.”

Deaton looks at him carefully. “But it’s your fault?”

“I didn’t say that,” Stiles says defensively. 

“Maybe, not,” Deaton agrees. “But you were thinking it.”

“Yea, well maybe if I had gotten to that chapter in the Bestiary before all the unprotected sex, we wouldn’t have found ourselves in a situation where I was stealing from you and getting the hell out of dodge,” Stiles snaps, angry at himself more so than anyone else. 

“You’re right. I should have told you,” Deaton says, a fleeting apologetic look on his face. “You didn’t grow up in this world Stiles, as your teacher I should have explained things better.”

“Yea well...just forget it,” Stiles says, uncomfortable now that Deaton is actually recognizing the consequences of his misinformation. “Surprising as it may seem, my miracle daughter is not why I’m here.”

“Oh?” Deaton asks.

Stiles shakes his head and glances down at his feet unsure where to begin. 

“I’ve been having some difficulty,” Stiles starts, hoping Deaton will interrupt him. Deaton remains stubbornly quiet, waiting for Stiles to continue. “There’s something wrong with my spark. I can’t control it. Even more so than before we started training. I almost killed Derek a few days ago by making a gun explode and throwing him across a room.”

“Why did you have a gun?” Deaton accuses. “I told you guns would interfere with your magic.”

“Yea well, let’s just say I’ve been a little desperate for protection,” Stiles offers. He stares at Deaton in silence, refusing to provide a further explanation. Deaton looks back at him for a moment before pulling a candle from a shelf behind Stiles’s head. 

“Show me,” Deaton demands, thrusting the candle into Stiles’s hands. “Light it.”

Stiles frowns, knowing this should be a simple a task. He focuses on the candle trying to get it to light. He imagines it bursting into flames, sizzling warmly and throwing off a small wave of heat. Stiles sags in defeat when the candle remains unlit in Deaton’s hand.

“See. It’s like it’s dead or something,” Stiles sighs, as fear bubbles under his skin. “Can I...Can I lose it? Like can my spark go away.”

“No,” Deaton says with a shake of his head as he places the candle on the table next to Stiles. Deaton walks over to his workbench, picking up a scalpel before walking back towards Stiles. “Not unless someone takes it from you. I believe something else is going on here.”

Stiles sighs in relief, not knowing who he would be without his spark. Without a way to defend himself, he would be completely useless to Laurie. 

“So what’s going on?” Stiles asks.

“First, one more test,” Deaton mutters turning the scalpel over in his hands. Without hesitating, Deaton plunges the blade into his arm leaving a deep cut.

“What the hell,” Stiles yells, jumping to his feet and reaching for Deaton’s arm.

“Heal it,” Deaton replies calmly, holding his arm out towards Stiles. Stiles stares at Deaton as the blood drips down his fingers onto the floor.

“I told you,” Stiles stammers, his hands shaking. “I can’t. I can’t control it.”

“Heal it,” Deaton repeats, staring at Stiles with unwavering eyes as Laurie begins to fuss. Stiles glances towards Laurie, reaching out towards her. Deaton wraps a bloodied hand around Stiles’s arm, stilling his movement. “No, heal it.”

Stiles places a shaking hand on Deaton’s arm, feeling the warmth of his blood flowing through his fingers. Trying to block out Laurie’s increasingly desperate wails, Stiles pictures Deaton’s arm whole, complete, and unblemished. Even before he knew his spark was responsible for it, Stiles had been able to heal people. But now all Stiles feels is blocked. A flash of desperation courses through Stiles as his grip tightens on Deaton’s arm.

“Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton whispers. “You can let go.”

Stiles opens his eyes, unaware he had even closed them. He glances down at Deaton’s arm expecting to see a bloody mess. Stiles breathes a sigh of relief at the freshly healed skin under his fingers.

“You are insane,” Stiles sighs, releasing Deaton’s arm and rushing over to soothe Laurie. “And that was incredibly dangerous.”

“You’re magic was never gone, Mr. Stilinski. I had no doubt you could heal me.”

“Then what the hell is wrong with me?” Stiles cries.

“Your magic is unanchored,” Deaton states.

Stiles stares at him waiting for him to continue. When Deaton remains stubbornly quiet, Stiles heaves an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know what that means.”

“All magic has an anchor,” Deaton explains. “Whether it’s the magic that controls a werewolf’s shift or the magic that lights your spark, it needs an anchor. While an anchor makes it possible for our local werewolves to remain connected to their humanity, your anchor allows you to access your magic.”

“But I never had an anchor before,” Stiles says, his confusion growing.

Deaton shakes his head. “I think you had an anchor long before you came to me.”

“I don’t under…” Stiles trails off as he realizes what Deaton is implying. “Derek.”

“Only you can know that,” Deaton replies.

Stiles is quiet for a moment, thinking about how his control degraded the longer he was away from Beacon Hills.

“If Derek’s my anchor, why did I almost kill him?” Stiles asks. “Shouldn’t my spark have been, I don’t know...happy to be back near, Derek?”

“It’s not that simple,” Deaton explains. “You’re bond to Derek and the pack has been hurt by the distance. Your spark won’t anchor to someone you don’t trust.”

“But I trust Derek with my life,” Stiles says shaking his head. 

“Even after all this time?”

“Yes,” Stiles responds with a certainty that surprises him a little. Deaton is quiet for a moment, his features twisted into a confused scowl. When his eyes land on Laurie, Deaton’s confusion clears. 

“But do you trust him with her?” Deaton asks, gesturing to Laurie.

“I…” Stiles's voice catches in his throat, as he glances down at Laurie. Although he knows that he was wrong about Derek, Stiles can’t help but be cautious. The belief that Derek didn’t want her drums in the back of his mind, fostering a doubt that is difficult to silence.

“Your daughter is obviously important to you,” Deaton explains. “It’s not surprising that even your magic is more focused on keeping her safe and keeping itself safe.”

Stiles stares down at Laurie’s tear-stained face. He turns back to Deaton, begging him for answers. “What do I do then? I need to protect her and I can’t do that without my magic. I’m all she has.”

“I know that you know that is not true,” Deaton answers, as the bell in the waiting room sounds again. Deaton pushes himself to his feet. “That will be Mr. Jones with his Rottweiler.”

Stiles slides off the table knowing he’s being dismissed. He grabs Laurie’s carrier and heads toward the back door to avoid explaining to Mr. Jones why his daughter is growling at his dog. 

“Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton calls out, causing Stiles to stop. “I think you know what you have to do, even if it is uncomfortable to admit you need help.”

Stiles nods and pushes open the door, stepping into the gloomy alley. He rounds the building reaching for his keys when the sound of screeching tires reaches his ears. He looks up just in time to see a familiar black SUV speeding down the street. 

“What the hell?” Stiles mutters, peering after the car for a second before turning towards the Jeep. Stiles stops short, eyes widening in surprise as he takes in the sight that greets him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kind words and welcome back :) You are all wonderful!  
> Now we have to check in with Derek before we find out what's happening with Stiles :)

Derek stands back and surveys his work before placing the paint roller on the tray and crossing the room to open a window. He breathes a sigh of relief as the fresh air circulates the room, clearing the paint fumes from the room. He rubs at his temples trying to shake loose the last remaining ache of from his hangover. He should never have listened to Isaac when he showed up with a pack of wolfsbane laced beers and an adamant refusal to talk about Stiles. He had assured Isaac that things would look better in the morning. Unfortunately, things had decidedly not looked better in the morning. Isaac was still mad, Erica was refusing to talk to him, and he had a hangover worse that Stiles’s twenty-first birthday. 

At least drinking had always guaranteed Derek an early rise the next day. He had been at the Hale House since five o’clock in the morning and finally felt like he was making some progress. He had finally leaned against the porch a little too hard, smirking when it fell away from the house. He had torn out the last remaining smoke and water damaged walls from the front of the house. A few more days like this and Derek would be able to paint downstairs, too. 

As he hammers the paint bucket cover back in place, Derek takes one last look at the baby yellow walls, a small, satisfied smile dancing across his lips. He heads down the hallway, peeking inside the remaining bedrooms to make sure nothing is out of place. He still has to paint most of these rooms, but that would require his picky betas actually making decisions. Who knew paint colors would be the downfall of the Hale pack? Derek walks into one of the smallest bedrooms, double checking the lock on the window that always seemed to come undone. He walks through the jack-and-jill bathroom to the far bedroom and surveys the moldings he had painted early that day. This bedroom had been his when he was a child. There were a lot of memories there, some good and some bad, but ultimately Derek was looking forward to turning it over to Erica and Boyd so they could be close to the twins once they were born.

Derek heads back to the hallway, walking up the final little set of stairs, and pauses at the door to the master bedroom. It still hurts a little to enter this space. A bone-deep ache that Derek is sure will never completely go away. His parents were everything to him and there was not a single day that went by that he did not miss them with every fiber of his being. But they would be proud of him, of the pack he had built no matter how small, of the alliances with McCall and Argent, of fixing the house and restoring it to its former glory. 

When he pushes open the door, Derek smirks at the bright red wall accent wall that is directly across from the door. He had painted it on impulse, realizing much too late that it matched Stiles’s old ratty hoodie almost perfectly. He glances around at the sheet-covered furniture that he had ordered one night before he realized Stiles wasn’t coming back. It was furniture he had known at the time Stiles would love, nearly identical the furniture they had seen in an antique shop during a weekend trip into the mountains. He shakes his head, knowing deep down that he had built the house around the idea that Stiles would return. But not just return to Beacon Hills, return to him. He had known it was silly, but that hadn’t stopped him from splashing Stiles’s tastes throughout the house. 

Derek sinks down onto the bed, ignoring the way the plastic covering crinkles under his weight. He realizes there’s no longer any reason not to move into the house. The contractor had finished the kitchen and bathrooms last week. The plumber had come by and double checked that the water was running in the house and nothing was wrong with any of the pipes that had been replaced. He had a fully furnished master bedroom sitting here, not being used. Derek glances around the room and decides its time. He’ll start moving his things into the house this week. With any luck living in the house will give him the extra time he needs to finish the last of the work. Maybe even allow him to finish the house before Erica pops. She would never admit it out loud, but Derek knows she’s terrified of being a mom and desperate to have her pack close once the twins arrive. Besides, Isaac would love to have the loft to himself.

He pushes himself from the bed and heads back into the hallway. He closes the door behind him and the latch catches with a loud click. Derek freezes when the sound of clicking continues throughout the house. Heels. Derek creeps soundlessly towards the steps, unwilling to breathe. The steps are too light to be Erica but much too loud to Allison, who always manage to move like the soundless hunter she is. Considering she’s an Argent and a McCall, they’re on better terms that Derek ever thought they would be. Even so, Allison would never stop by without calling. The sound continues into the kitchen as Derek slinks down the stairs. He rounds towards the kitchen door, raising the bucket in his hand when he reaches the bottom of the steps. He takes a deep breath, pushes the swinging door open and…

“Really, Derek, what were you going to do? Brain me in the head with a paint bucket?” Lydia stares at him unamused, clearly waiting for an answer. Derek stares at her unable reconcile the fact that Lydia Martin is standing in his house with the months that have elapsed since he’s last seen her. 

“Of course not,” Derek says, dropping his arm much to quickly to be casual. “What are you doing here?”

“Better question: why didn’t you know I was here?” Lydia asks, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter. “I’ve been here for like ten minutes. I expected a little more of the welcome wagon.”

“I’ve been painting all morning,” Derek explains. “Fumes mess with my senses, especially smell.”

Lydia shrugs as if she didn’t really care what the answer was, and Derek finds himself feeling a prickle of annoyance. Lydia was always able to get under his skin in a way that Stiles’s others friends never could. If he was honest with himself, Derek would just admit it was because Stiles was in love with her all those years ago, but self-reflection had never been his strong suit.

“Again, Lydia, what are you doing here?” Derek asks as he takes the paint roller over to the bucket of water on the counter.

“What I can’t stop by and say “hi”?”

“Facetiousness is beneath you,” he deadpans, refusing to acknowledge that she’s baiting him.

“Fine,” she sighs, glaring at him. “I came by to see if you had completely and utterly lost your mind.”

“What are you talking about?” 

“I don’t know,” Lydia snaps. “Maybe the fact that the love of your life just walked back into town with a baby in tow and your hiding out playing handyman rather than confronting the problem.”’

“Love of my…?” Derek shakes his head. “Lydia, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t know what I’m talking about? That’s what you’re going to say to me? What was it you said the last time I saw you?”

“Lydia, please,” Derek said, suddenly begging her to stop. He does not want to relive that night.

“You said, and I quotes,” she yells over him, “‘I will never love someone the way I love Stiles. He will always be it for me. That’s why this hurts so much.’”

“I was drunk,” Derek snaps, turning on her. Lydia glares daggers at him; unwavering, unfearful, and unrepentant. Exactly the way Derek will always remember her. “I didn’t know what I was saying.”

“You were honest,” she snarls, pushing him away from her. Derek stumbles back willingly, and Lydia puts some distance between them.

Derek takes a deep breath to calm himself before speaking, “Thing’s change, Lydia.”

“Not the things that matter,” Lydia says stubbornly, nearly stamping her foot. Derek would laugh if not for the knowledge that she could destroy him without a second glance. He decides to change tactics.

“I didn’t know you were such a good liar,” Derek says carefully. He continues at the confused look that scrunches up Lydia’s usually perfectly smooth face. “I asked you every time I saw you if you had heard from Stiles and you always said no. I was never able to tell that you were lying.” 

Lydia flinches so subtly Derek would have missed it had he not be staring right at her. 

“I’m not that good of a liar,” she murmurs. Derek listens intently, but her heartbeat is steady. Though if he’s right, she’s tricked him before and he’s honestly not sure how he feels about that. Probably equal parts terrified and impressed. With her cunning mind and intense loyalty, a Lydia able to lie to a werewolf might get herself in trouble one day. “I didn’t...I couldn’t lie to you about Stiles, not when I knew how important he is to you, to the pack. I wouldn’t do that, Derek.”

“You’re loyalty was always to McCall’s pack. I knew that; it was never a problem for me.”

“My loyalty,” Lydia snaps, “is to Allison and Stiles and that will never change. I never claimed any allegiance to either of your stupid packs.”

“It doesn’t really matter. You still would lie for Stiles, I’ve seen you do it.”

“Yes,” she agrees easily. “I have lied and will continue to lie for Stiles, but you have always been able to tell when I was lying and you know that.”

“But you never told me about…” Derek trails off. Laurie. He was going to say she never told him about Laurie. “You stopped coming home after he came to you. At least you stopped coming to see me.”

Lydia nods, embarrassment creeping up her cheeks. “He begged me, Derek, begged me from the moment I opened the door, not to tell anyone. And he was so sick. I had to agree no matter how stupid I thought he was being.”

“Sick?” Derek asks instantly concerned despite his confused feelings for Stiles at the moment. 

“I guess he didn’t tell you everything,” Lydia sighs, running a hand through her hair as she drops onto an overturned bucket in the corner. “When Stiles finally came to my house, he was...not doing well. Laurie was fine, hell she was perfect. She was happy and smiling and had the cutest little attempt at a growl that you have ever seen. It was obvious Stiles had given her everything he possibly could.”

Derek feels a pang of jealousy hit so suddenly he has to drop back against the counter. Lydia had been there for all the moments he had missed. He wonders how many diapers she’s changed, bottles she’s fixed, booboos she’s kissed better all while taking care of his daughter with Stiles. 

“But Stiles,” Lydia continues. “Stiles was really weak. He never told me explicitly what happened when Laurie was born, but I think it almost killed him. I looked it up once, what happens when a male spark gives birth, and it’s not...it’s not pretty. A lot of them don’t survive. They...they bleed out, sometimes killing the baby in the process. And those that don’t die...well they usually only survive because they were turned.”

“But turning Stiles would destroy his spark,” Derek interrupts, knowing Stiles would never agree to that.

“Yea, I know,” Lydia agrees, staring down at her hands in her lap. “And Stiles would never do that. He thinks he’s nothing without his spark. That without his spark he doesn’t get to be a part of this world, that Scott stops being his friend, that we never become friends, that you never fall in love with him.”

“That..” Derek starts indignantly.

“I’m not saying it’s true,” Lydia says loudly locking eyes with Derek and forcing him to fall quiet. “I’m just saying it’s how he thinks. Besides, I know he would never agree to be turned by some strange Alpha in a strange city. If it was you biting him and he was dying maybe, but he would never agree to do something that would sever his connection to you. Ever.”

Derek stares at Lydia surprised by her forcefulness, but her tone leaves no room for arguments. He had always assumed that if Stiles was ever going to be turned Scott would be the one to bite him. They were like brothers after all. If Stiles was dying, it wouldn’t matter that Stiles was Derek’s boyfriend and likely his emissary. Derek would insist Scott save him, just to keep him alive. He had always been selfish that way when it came to those he loved. What Derek had never considered that Stiles would trust him to give him the bite.

“Anyway, we’re getting off topic,” Lydia says and clears her throats. “I never agreed with a lot of what Stiles made me promise. I thought he should tell you and his father what was going on. Explain why no one had heard from him for months. And in the beginning, I told him just that. But he was stubborn and when he got his strength back, I was so worried that he would take that little girl and run if I pushed too hard. So I just...I stopped pushing. I told myself every day it was better that I knew where he was than that no one knew where he was, and eventually I believed it. But I never lied to you, Derek. I just had to keep him safe.”

Derek is quiet for a long moment after Lydia stops speaking. He thinks about the pieces of information that he put together over the course of the past few days. Information that paints a sad, lonely, dangerous picture of the months Stiles was pregnant and the early months of Laurie’s life.

“It was better,” Derek finally says, and Lydia’s eyes shoot up to him. “It was better that he was safe and that you were there to help him with Laurie.”

Lydia eyes him, almost as if she expects him to yell “Psyche!” and tell her she’s a horrible person. But Derek is telling her the truth. Stiles dying is something Derek would never be able to come back from. Stiles lying, on the hand, just requires forgiveness, something he may be able to find one day.

“I’m not saying I forgive you for keeping his secrets,” Derek clarifies. “And I am positive that Erica is going to want to talk to you about this, but I understand why you did it. And I’m glad you were there to protect him.”

“That’s the thing,” Lydia says urgently, rushing across the room to him. “I can’t protect him. I’ve never been any good at that. Protecting people is all Stiles. The first few weeks he was living with me, I went to bed every night with this feeling like I could wake up screaming because he was dying and I wouldn’t be surprised. And then that feeling went away for a while. And we lived our lives and Stiles went to school and I went to work and we took care of Laurie. But something was wrong, Derek. His spark, something's not right. And then that feeling came back. That feeling is back and it’s so strong I have to stop myself from screaming just standing in this kitchen with you. Something is after him and I can’t track it, I can’t see it, I can’t identify. I just know it’s there and it’s waiting. I can’t protect them, Derek, but maybe you can.”

Lydia Martin has never begged Derek for anything as long as he has known her, but she is begging now. He opens his mouth to answer when his phone starts to ring in his pocket. Lydia takes a hasty step back, wiping away the tears that cling to her lashes. Derek fishes out his phone and sees that Isaac is calling. 

“Hey, Isaac, what’s up?” he says casually, glancing at Lydia who’s gathering her stuff from the counter.

“Does Stiles still have that corroded old Jeep?” Isaac grumbles over the line.

“Stiles?” Derek asks, causing Lydia to freeze. “Yea, why?”

“I think you need to get down here,” Isaac says carefully.

“Why?” Derek responds cautiously, already pushing himself from the counter and patting his body for his keys. Lydia jingles them in front of his face before dropping them into his hand.

“Because someone just vandalized Stiles’s car, and I don’t think you’re going to like what it says.”


	12. Chapter 12

Stiles knows he’s not breathing. He can tell by the way his vision is blurring around the edges. Even so, he can see the words; harsh, angry, ugly words smeared across the driver side of his blue Jeep. _Death to mutts and mongrels. A bitch born to a bitch in heat._

Stiles’s brain fractures between two thoughts: _I was never in heat_ and _How did they find me?_ He was supposed to have more time; more time to relax, more time to apologize, more time to formulate a plan. But they had found him; found him and he hadn’t even known.

Stiles swallows thickly, forcing himself to take a deep breath. He welcomes the oxygen until his vision clears enough for him to make sense of the words plastered across the windshield: You can run but you can’t hide. 

Stiles hears the sound of someone rustling on the passenger side of the car. He tenses and takes a step back, wondering how fast he can run while lugging Laurie’s car seat beside him. The curly-haired, blond head that pops above the hood of the car has Stiles sagging in relief. He takes one last breath to beat away the residual panic, as he places Laurie gently on the curb.

“Isaac?” Stiles whispers, shocked by the unfamiliar man standing before him. Gone are the fashion scarves and cable-knit sweaters; replaced by scrubs that are too dark against his pale skin. Although Isaac looks older and more closed off than when he last saw him, Stiles can’t help the joy that bubbles to the surface.

“I got to go,” Isaac says into the phone he has pressed to his ear. He hangs up and drops the phone into his pocket before staring at Stiles. 

“Oh my God, Isaac,” Stiles breathes, unable to contain the happiness at seeing his puppy. “What are you doing here? You gave me a heart attack.”

“I work here…” Isaac replies, trailing off as he rounds towards the back of the car. Stiles scrambles after him, mirroring Isaac’s movements in an effort to get closer to him. He rounds the car quickly, screeching to a halt moments before slamming into Issac. When Isaac’s eyes drift over Stiles’s shoulder and widen slightly, it’s such a quick movement Stiles knows he would have missed it had he not been staring directly at him.

“What is it?” Stiles asks, glancing over his shoulder. Stiles’s blood runs cold. He drags a hand across the back of his neck, aiming for casual despite the fact that Isaac can hear the racket his heart is making. He cocks his head to the side while taking in the drawing of the dead wolf; now accompanied by a dead cartoon human complete with x-ed out eyes.

“The wolf at the house was more detailed. I guess they didn’t have as much time,” Stiles muses. He knows it’s a dumb thing to say, but his brain seems to have stalled faced with concrete proof that whoever was after him in Berkeley had followed him to Beacon Hills.

Stiles knows instinctively that it’s time to leave. There’s no more debating it. His dad would just have to understand. Scott would forgive him if he explained this time. Allison had just asked for a goodbye; he could make that call on the way out of town. Stiles turns back to get Laurie, pausing when he sees her waving her arms up at Isaac, the silent beg of a baby that just wants to be picked up. He shakes his head marveling at the fact that Laurie, usually a shy, skittish child, seems unnaturally drawn to the people from his old life. 

“I have to go,” Stiles says under his breath, rushing forward to gather the things that had fallen out of the tipped over diaper bag. 

“Of course you do,” Isaac scoffs. “Are you even going to tell Derek this time? Maybe you can just have me pass along the message?”

“That’s not fair, Isaac. You have no idea what I have been up against.”

“Don’t be so sure. Derek filled us in pretty well last night.”

“Of course he told you,” Stiles sighs, as he reaches down to soothe Laurie. It’s not a question. He had been expecting it from the moment he got back to town. He wonders how they took it. Boyd was probably quiet and stoic, while Erica stormed around the house in a passionate fury. But Isaac had always been more of a wildcard.

“Derek doesn’t lie to us,” Isaac snaps, turning away from Stiles. “Unlike some people.”

“I didn’t lie to you, Isaac. I…”

“You know what, Stiles? I don’t have to listen to you anymore,” Isaac interrupts with a glare. “That’s the great things about people walking out of your life, you no longer have to listen to their bullshit.”

“Bullshit?” Stiles asks, defensively. “Is that just the things I say now or is it everything I’ve ever said to you?”

It’s a low blow; one that Stiles regrets the moment it lands. With one question, Stiles had sent Isaac back to the early nights of their friendship. Nights when he comforted Isaac through nightmare after nightmare about his horrible father by whispering calming words and reassurances. 

“I’m sorry, Isaac, I didn’t mean that,” Stiles sighs, resting his hand on Isaac’s arm.

Isaac shrugs off his touch in an instant. “Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t. It doesn’t matter anymore. I make it a point to only care what my packmates have to say. And you’re not pack, Stiles. Who knows if you ever were.”

Stiles steps back, physically feeling Isaac’s words as if they were a punch in the stomach. He can hear Isaac’s words almost as if they had come from Derek himself. Though he had left, Stiles had never stopped thinking about Derek’s pack as _his_ pack; hoping that they still felt he was still apart of them, as much as they felt apart of him. But apparently, he was wrong. It had just been wishful thinking. The Hale Pack really was truly done with him. 

“I should definitely go,” he whispers, as the sudden and intense feeling of abandonment that washes over him.

“Where are you going to go?” Isaac snaps. “You were clearly tracked here. They’ll just find you somewhere else.” 

“Well, it’s a good thing that’s not your problem,” Stiles cries, hurt and betrayal bubbling over. “That’s what you meant, right? ‘Not pack’ means not your problem. Don’t worry, Isaac, that has been made perfectly clear over and over and over again. But guess what? Apparently, I’ll be dead soon, so then I won’t be anyone’s problem, will I?”

Stiles isn’t sure when he started yelling, but he’s screaming by the time he gets to the last word. Isaac is staring at him wide-eyed as Laurie is screaming in the distance and Stiles is tired, so tired he barely feels like he’s standing. He’s tired of running, tired of fighting, tired of apologizing, tired of screwing up. And then, without warning, Stiles is no longer standing. He sags to the ground and squeezes his eyes shut against the tears, silently begging Laurie to stop screaming. Laurie is still in danger and he can’t protect her, and his father is still angry with him and he can’t make it right, and he’s just so tired.

“Stiles!” Stiles looks up blearily when Lydia’s voice reaches him. He sees her running toward him at the last moment heading toward Laurie’s cries instead. She plucks her from the seat holding her close to her body, barely blinking as Laurie shreds her blouse in her agitation. Lydia glances towards the car. “What happened?”

“I…I...” Stiles struggles, clutching at his tightening chest as his vision begins to tunnel.

“Are you hurt?” Derek asks suddenly in front of Stiles, his hands hovering over Stiles’s body like he wants to check for injuries but doesn’t know if his touch will be welcome. Stiles glances up at him before turning to look for Isaac, who seems to have disappeared. 

“Are you hurt?” Derek demands, finally running his hands over Stiles’s arms. “You smell hurt.”

Stiles drops his head to his knees, curling in on himself, unable to answer and simply enjoying the feel Derek’s hands running over him. A feeling of calm settles over him for the first time in months, and he wants nothing more than to lean into the touch. He can feel himself drifting, the bone-deep exhaustion catching him in a moment of weakness.

“Stiles!” Derek might be yelling now and someone is shaking him and his vision is almost completely dark. A sudden panicked thought has Stiles fighting to stay afloat. He reaches in front of him, his hands colliding with Derek’s firm chest. Stiles wraps his fingers in Derek’s shirt, trying to ground himself.

“Laurie,” Stiles chokes out.

“Lydia has her,” Stiles hears through his ragged breaths. “It’s okay. Just breath.”

 _Just breath_ , Stiles thinks hysterically, sinking fully into oblivion. _Why is that always so hard?_


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy that so many of you stuck around waiting for this fic to update :) It was wonderful to hear from you in the comments! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the previous ones!

As he tucks Stiles gently into the front passenger seat of the Camaro, Derek tries to shake off the dread that is clawing at his heart. His ears are still ringing from the sound of Lydia urging him to drive faster, her frantic voice rising higher and higher in time with Stiles’s frantic heartbeat.

“This is not a practical car for a child, Derek,” Lydia complains, as she twists herself behind the driver’s seat in a desperate attempt to latch the car seat to the base.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Derek sighs, as he buckles the seat belt around Stiles. He can’t help but stare at the circles under Stiles’s eyes, so dark they look like bruises. The exhaustion is written in every angle of Stiles’s body, highlighted further by his gaunt features and ashen tone. Derek reaches for Stiles’s face, running a thumb over his cheekbone. Had he looked this bad yesterday?

 _Probably_ , Derek thinks. _And I was too angry to notice._

“Got it!” Lydia yells triumphantly, as a loud click rings throughout the car. Derek pulls back from Stiles and looks up to find Lydia staring at him. 

“Here,” Derek says, tossing the keys towards Lydia, who snatches them out of the air. His eyes travel back to Stiles, unable to look away for too long. “Take him home. Isaac will meet you there. He’ll stay with you until I’m done here.”

“He’s going to be okay,” Lydia assures him. “Deaton only gave him a mild sedative. He said it was good for him to sleep, especially after the panic attack and draining his magic.”

“Healing shouldn’t have drained him,” Derek whispers, growing increasingly concerned about Stiles’s spark. First, the gun exploding, and now nearly a complete drain from healing a simple cut. Healing was notoriously easy for Stiles. Almost like breathing, it was a reflex more than a skill; something he was able to do before they had even realized he was a spark. But today, a simple act of healing had nearly drained his spark to the point of no return. Derek had barely been able to feel the hum of magic beneath his skin when he fell to his knees in front of Stiles. What would happen if Stiles’s spark was extinguished?

The sound of the sheriff’s police cruiser rounding corner pulls Derek from his thoughts. Lydia drops into the driver’s seat and turns the key without hesitation. As the engine roars to life, Lydia glances back at Derek hesitantly. A silent communication passes between them: what will Derek tell John?

“Get out of here,” Derek urges, closing the passenger door gently. “John shouldn’t see Stiles like this. Not now.”

“Alright,” Lydia agrees, nodding stiffly. Derek turns towards the police cruiser as the Lydia screeches out the parking lot. 

“What the hell happened?” the sheriff asks, approaching Derek at a near run. Derek glances back to make sure Lydia has cleared his line of sight. “Where’s Stiles? Who was that driving your car?”

“Stiles...Stiles had a panic attack.”

“What? Why? That hasn’t happened in years.”

“I don’t know,” Derek sighs, knowing it sounds like an excuse. “Whatever’s wrong with his magic...it’s weakened him in some way. He’s going to be okay, though. Deaton says he just needs to rest.”

“What did that cryptic vet do to my son?” John yells turning towards the clinic. Derek reaches out to stop him, quickly dropping his hand from the Sheriff’s shoulder when John glares down at him.

“Deaton didn’t do anything,” Derek explains calmly. “Stiles came here to talk to him about his spark. I think he was worried after what happened yesterday.”

“You mean nearly killing you with a wolfsbane bullet?”

Derek flinches against the memory. “Yea, that.”

Relief floods the air as John takes a deep breath. “When I woke up this morning, Stiles and Laurie were gone. I only knew they hadn’t left town because I almost killed myself on one of Laurie’s toys coming down the stairs. I really thought he had run out on us again.”

Derek nods in agreement, knowing he had woken up that very morning worrying about the same thing. Would he even know if Stiles disappeared in the middle of the night again? Would anyone think to tell him?

“Where is he now? Is Laurie okay?”

“Yea,” Derek assures him. “Laurie’s fine. Lydia brought him and Laurie home. To your house”

John nods absentmindedly, taking a moment to calm his nerves. He glances towards Stiles’s Jeep and his eyes narrow. “What the hell?”

“Yea, pretty much the same reaction I had,” Derek says, glancing towards the sound of the door chime as Isaac steps out of the clinic. “One second, John. I mean sir.”

“Oh forget it, I was mad,” John dismisses with a wave of his hand. “You can’t go back to calling me sir, then I might have to start arresting you again.”

“I sincerely hope that never happens,” Derek jokes, giving John a reassuring smile before he heads over to Isaac.

“You made it,” Isaac says aiming for casual, though Derek can feel his agitation vibrating in the air.

“What happened with Stiles, Isaac?” Derek asks, urgently. “I could hear him screaming while we driving here, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying.”

“It was nothing,” Isaac replies stiffly, instantly on guard. “I didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing, Derek, okay? Just forget it.”

“It’s not nothing,” Derek growls, eyes flashing red to show his beta his displeasure. “When I got here, Stiles was...he was on the edge of destruction. You will tell me what you said to him, Isaac. In case I wasn’t clear, that was not a suggestion. Tell me. Now.”

Isaac stands his ground for a moment, trying to resist his alpha’s will. Derek sees the moment Isaac abandons his useless fight; he cannot ignore a direct command. 

“I told him…I told him, he wasn’t pack anymore.”

Derek is gripping the front of Isaac’s shirt before he even realizes he’s moved. “That was _not_ your call, Lahey,” Derek hisses around his fangs. “You are not the alpha of this pack; you do not get to decide who is and is not a member. You…”

“Derek?” John calls, causing Derek to release Isaac, who stumbles back a little, baring his neck in a silent plea for forgiveness. “You need to see this!”

“One second,” Derek calls over his shoulder, trying to rein in his wolf. He focuses his attention back on Isaac. “You will run to Stiles’s house, and you will stand guard until I relieve you. You will not call Boyd or Erica to take over. You will stand there, and you will think about the fact that you almost destroyed your packmate today. You will stand there, and you will think about what it means to be in a pack. Is that clear?”

“But Stiles left. You said this was about Laurie, that Stiles wasn’t…”

“Is that clear?” Derek hisses, hating the way Isaac flinches away from his anger. He knows he will have to apologize later; remind Isaac that anger is part of being in a family, not just a precursor to violence and abuse.

Isaac nods curtly before turning to jog off towards Stiles’s house. Derek runs a hand through his hair trying to regain his composure. He hates yelling at his pack, really disciplining them in any way. It was easier when Stiles was there to keep him in check, make sure he toed the line that marked unfair punishment without crossing it. Even more, he hates having his own words thrown back in his face. How could he have ever thought Stiles wasn’t part of his pack? Stiles was a part of him; is a part of him and now with Laurie...

“Derek, I think you should come here! Now!” John yells. It’s the urgency in his voice that finally clears Derek’s head enough to head over to the Jeep. “Did you see this?”

“See what?” Derek asks, rounding the back of the car to look where John is pointing. Derek pauses, blinking rapidly hoping he’s seeing things, hoping the tombstone encircling the words “Hale’s bitch” will disappear, a figment of his overactive imagination. 

“Does this mean this is about you?” John asks but to Derek’s surprise, it’s not an accusation. He glances at John and sees nothing but concern etched on his face.

“I...I don’t know,” Derek whispers, though the seeds of doubt have already been sowed. The words are surrounded by a crude looking cemetery, a sea of smaller tombstones surrounding the larger one. Most of them are unlabeled, but two of them are emblazoned with the names of parents. Derek swallows thickly against the bile rising in his throat. It has to be about him. Why else make the threat if not to prove they know Laurie is his daughter? “John, if this is my fault…”

“Don’t,” the Sheriff cuts in, refusing to let Derek continue down that rabbit hole. “The only person or people at fault here are the assholes that are stalking my son and my grandbaby.”

“But…”

“No but. Stiles would hit you if he saw you blaming yourself.”

Derek bites back the river of words that threaten to break through, knowing John is right. His mind is running in circles, trying to figure out if this new information increases or decreases the number of suspects hunting Stiles and Laurie. Stiles has a long list of enemies after years of fighting for and defending Beacon Hills, but Derek...Derek has a lifetime of enemies from simply existing. Really hundreds of lifetimes of enemies that hunt his kind across continents. 

“Did Stiles see this?”

“I don’t know,” Derek breathes, pushing down the self-doubt and blame. “I don’t think so, but I can’t be sure.”

“Scott told me about what happened at Lydia’s house. I’m guessing it looked similar to this.”

“Yea,” Derek sighs, “Stiles showed me some pictures. Some of the phrases are almost identical, but the drawing on the back is different. The human is a new edition. And the whole “you can run but you can’t hide” thing; that’s new. And this...this is definitely new.”

“Do you think he hid something like this from Lydia’s?”

Derek thinks about it for a moment before shaking his head. “Stiles wouldn’t have come here if he thought this was about me. Keeping me and Laurie apart would have been safer. They must not have known for sure who Laurie’s father was until Stiles came back.”

“So there’s no chance we’re dealing with someone else?”

“I would say it’s highly unlikely.”

“Of course it is,” John snarks, and for a moment Derek sees where Stiles gets his sarcastic streak. “Is it blood again?”

Derek pauses, wondering how he had missed that. The words splashed across Laurie’s bedroom were painted in blood, but these...he isn’t so sure. Derek approaches the car, bracing himself for the onslaught of putrid, stale blood, but it never comes. He gets closer, leaning in until his nose is nearly touching the car and sniffs. 

“I don’t smell anything,” Derek says in awe.

“So no blood. That’s a good sign at least,” John breathes.

“No, John, I don’t smell _anything_. Literally, nothing. I can’t even smell Stiles on the car and he’s owned this vehicle for nearly a decade.”

“Nothing? Is that even possible?”

“No,” Derek breaths trying to make sense of the scentless car. “Especially on an object tied so closely to a person. I should be able to track this Jeep for miles just on Stiles’s scent alone.”

“But there’s nothing?”

“Nothing,” Derek muses, trying to think clearly through his confusion. Magic is the obvious answer. Stiles’s car still smelled like him even after going through a car wash. Nothing but magic could strip his scent so completely from the Jeep. 

Derek circles the car looking for evidence of tampering, wondering how they did it: how did they cast a spell over the entire Jeep? He pauses after a moment, trying to remember everything Lydia and Stiles have ever taught him about cloaking magic. The simplest spells must stay with the person or object being hidden. That was one of Stiles’s golden rules; it explained why Stiles had stitched a protective charm into his leather jacket. He rarely left home without it, making it the ideal object to imbue with magic. But Stiles would notice something attached to his car, he was overly paranoid when it came to things like that. Unless…

Derek drops to his knees, searching the underside of the car. His eyes bleed red as he strains to catch sigh of anything unusual. Just when he’s about to give up, he catches sight of it: a tiny satchel attached near the back, passenger-side wheel. 

“I got something,” Derek calls, reaching for the satchel. As he grabs the packet, his hand erupts in pain: like a fire burning through his skin. He drops the satchel, staring at the angry welts that decorate his palm. 

“Derek, you okay?”

“Yea,” Derek says carefully, staring up at him and gesturing towards the satchel. “I just didn’t expect that thing to try to burn a hole through my hand.” 

Derek watches as John carefully reaches for the spell. His hand hovers over it for a moment before he grasps it. 

“It’s not burning me,” he breathes, clearly relieved. He sniffs it gently. “Ah, mistletoe.” 

“That explains the burns,” Derek sighs, glad to see that the blisters on his hand are healing.

“Great, werewolf poison attached the car my werewolf granddaughter was in,” John says, shaking his head. “So, why cloak the Jeep? Do you think they were trying to cover their tracks?”

“That might be the best case scenario,” Derek murmurs. “I think...I think they were trying to trap Stiles and Laurie. I bet if they get in the car, we can’t smell them. No scent. Means no tracking. No tracking means they disappear, and we can’t find them.”

“So it’s safe to say whoever is after them is aware of the super senses,” John sighs.

“Well, I think ‘a bitch born to a bitch in heat’ covered that, but yea, they know about werewolves and Stiles’s magic.”

“Great, and we have nothing to go on,” John groans, and Derek nods in agreement. “I guess, I’ll be filing a police report for this.”

“How are you going to explain the wolf?”

“I don’t know. I’ll say Stiles got a dog or something.”

“And the part about me?”

John raises a skeptical eyebrow that Derek is sure Stiles would say rivals his own. “It’s not like the entire station doesn’t know you were dating my son. I think that one might explain away itself.”

“Stiles would say it’s too much paperwork,” Derek points out.

“Someone vandalized my son’s car with...I don’t know...speciesist slurs against my granddaughter. I’m filling out a damned police report,” he growls.

“Okay, okay,” Derek pacifies. “Fill out all the paperwork you want.”

John heads back to his cruiser, barking orders into the radio. Derek follows at a distance, thinking about the day Stiles had told his dad about werewolves. Derek had been pretty sure he was going to get shot, and that was before they had started dating. Months later when they had fallen into an easy relationship, Derek had hesitated when agreeing that they should tell John. What if he didn’t want his son dating a werewolf? But that had never been a problem. In fact, having the sheriff in the know had proven time and time again to be the right decision. Once he knew about the supernatural, John became a force to be reckoned with. A deadly accurate shot from hundreds of feet away, he became nearly unstoppable with his homemade silver and wolfsbane bullets. With Laurie in the picture, Derek is glad there is someone armed and ready to protect his daughter right across the hall from where she sleeps.

“Hey, Derek, you want a ride?” John calls, drawing his attention to the police tow-truck that’s pulling behind the Jeep. “I can drop you by the house before I head back to the station.”

“Yea, sure,” Derek agrees, sliding into the passenger seat. As John pulls out of the parking lot, Derek watches the Jeep in the rearview mirror. Thinking about the crude cemetery drawn on the far side of the car, Derek can’t help but think that Stiles may be better off far from Beacon Hills.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I posted this chapter last week but apparently I did not! I'm hoping to get a lot of good writing time in this week so that I can power through this story. Don't worry, I will finish it!
> 
> Thank you for the comments as always! Hope you enjoy :)

Stiles groans, trying to pry his crusty eyes open. He rubs at his eyes with the backs of his hands as he sits up, clamping down on the nausea that rolls through his body. His head pounds as light pulsates behind his eyes.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Lydia singsongs, as she strolls into the room dropping a laundry basket on his desk. “Nothing like a magic hangover, huh?”

“What happened?” Stiles grumbles, trying to remember how he got from the clinic to his bedroom. There’s a hazy memory of Derek followed by Lydia’s worried monologue as Stiles drifted in and out of consciousness.

“Deaton gave you a sedative after had a panic attack and passed out,” Lydia states bluntly. 

“What?” Stiles yelps, jumping to his feet. “Where’s Laurie?”

“She’s downstairs, Stiles,” Lydia assures him, rushing forward to catch Stiles as his knees give out. “Just sit down.”

“Alone?!” Stiles pushes at Lydia, trying to get up again. 

“Yes, Stiles, I left a baby alone because I am completely incompetent,” she replies dryly. “Of course she’s not alone! Isaac is down there with Allison and Scott.”

“I don’t want Isaac anywhere near my daughter,” Stiles says reflexively, a vague memory of his painful words sharpening into focus. When he hears the front door open followed by someone stomping down the porch steps, Stiles flinches. “He heard me didn’t he.”

“I would say yes,” Lydia sighs, as she heads towards Stiles’s windows. She glances down, a sour expression on her pinched face. “Want to tell me why? I thought you were looking forward to seeing Isaac.”

“I was,” Stiles says with a shake of his head. “I don’t know. I just missed him so much.”

“I know, Stiles,” Lydia agrees with a sad smile. “He was always your favorite.”

“Aww, Lyds, don’t say that.”

“It’s fine, Stiles. Everyone knew it. In a lot of ways, Isaac was the first beta that was yours and Derek’s together. Not just Derek’s.”

“What are you talking about?”

Lydia shrugs, as she walks over to the laundry basket and starts folding. “I always thought integrating Isaac into Derek’s pack was the first task you completed as his emissary. The first steps you and Derek took to build a pack together.”

“I...what?” Stiles asks, his brain working in overdrive trying to make sense of what Lydia was saying. Emissary? He was never Derek’s emissary. That didn’t make sense. Most of their friends assumed Stiles wasn’t even part of Derek’s pack, somehow still belonging to the McCall pack despite the shift in his relationship with Scott and his increased connection to Derek.

“Is that why whatever Isaac said hurt you so much? Because he was your pack?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lyds. I’m not...Isaac isn’t…” Stiles struggles for words that won’t make his heartache. “Isaac said I wasn’t pack. He said protecting me wasn’t the pack's problem. Pack only protects pack. That’s what he said, Lydia, so your theory doesn’t really make sense. Besides I’m not an emissary. I’m barely a fully functioning spark.” 

“You and I both know that’s a load of crap,” Lydia snaps. Stiles raises an eyebrow and she relents. “Present situation excluded, you are one of the strongest magical users I know.”

“It doesn’t matter,”’ Stiles groans falling back on the bed and rubbing his face. “Isaac dismissing me is as good as Derek dismissing me.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Lydia sighs, tucking a stack of Laurie’s onesies into the drawer. “When he got here, Isaac said Derek sent him here to think about what it meant to be part of a pack. Seemed like Derek was furious with him.”

Stiles shakes his head; he can practically see Derek ordering Isaac to stand guard as punishment. Regardless, Stiles remains unconvinced. He has no reason to think that Derek will be any more willing to help him that he was the first day he rolled into town.

“This day did not turn out how I planned,” Stiles groans. “I just wanted to go see Deaton and fix my magic, but no. Instead I find out my magic is mad at me because I left Derek, my car gets vandalized by some wackjobs that it would seem want to kill me and/or my daughter, Isaac essentially tells me he hates me, and then I pass out like a fucking damsel in distress forcing you to take care of me for hours.”

“But you make such a pretty damsel in distress,” Lydia jokes and Stiles chucks a pillow at her with a laugh. She catches it easily, tossing it back on the bed before she continues with the laundry. “What do you mean your magic is mad at you for leaving Derek?”

Stiles winces, wishing he hadn’t said anything. Admitting aloud that his magic needs to be near Derek feels like the final nail in his coffin. “Deaton says my magic has become unanchored. That’s why it’s been so hard for me to control it.”

“And Derek was your anchor! Of course,” Lydia gasps as if the entire situation now makes sense. “You know that really makes a lot of sense considering I’m pretty sure you’ve been his anchor since like high school.”

“Not really the point right now, Lyds.”

“You’re right. The point is that you both are out of your minds. You both need each other so much it’s practically killing the rest of us, and it turns out, it might be killing you, too.”

“It’s not killing me, Lyds. It’s just making my life mildly inconvenient.”

“I thought we agreed years ago to trust the banshee on all death-related matters for eternity,” Lydia deadpans, causing Stiles to laugh. She shakes her head at him before adding nonchalantly, “Derek looked a little worried about your well being today when we got to Deaton’s I mean.” 

“Facetiousness is beneath you, Lydia,” Stiles sighs. 

“You know, you’re not the first person to tell me that today,” she says thoughtfully. “So I’m going to say to exactly what I said to him: have you completely lost your mind?”

“It’s always a distinct possibility with me,” Stiles says dryly.

“Stiles, I’m serious,” Lydia cries, suddenly angry. “When are you going to tell him you love him?”

Stiles chokes in surprise, forcing him to sit up. “Lydia, there are werewolves in this house that can hear you! Besides, the psychos that broke into our house just followed us to Beacon Hills and vandalized my car and you think that is an appropriate topic of conversation?”

“Well,” she replies smugly. “At least you’ve stopped denying it. I call that progress.”

Stiles stares at her for a moment, feeling as if he’s been lured into a trap he hadn’t even known he should be on the lookout for. Stiles watches her hurry around the room for a minute, bouncing back and forth between the laundry basket and his dressers like a ping pong ball. As Stiles questions when exactly it stopped being weird that Lydia folds his underwear, he catches sight of a red spot on the front of her shirt.

“Lyds, are you bleeding?”

“What?” she asks, glancing down to where he is staring. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

Stiles grabs her hand, forcing Lydia to come to a stop in front of him. When Stiles reaches for the hem of her shirt, Lydia stiffens. Stiles pauses, staring up at her and begging for permission. When Lydia relents, Stiles lifts her shirt slowly to reveal razor sharp cut marks all across her front.

“Oh god, Lydia,” Stiles breathes, running his thumb over a particularly deep mark. “When did Laurie do this?”

“It’s fine, Stiles,” Lydia says, stepping back and tugging her shirt back down. “She was agitated and scared. She didn’t mean to.”

“That doesn’t make it okay!” Stiles insists, scrambling to his feet and reaching out to her. “Let me heal you.”

“No!” Lydia yells, flinching away from his hands. Stiles startles at the sudden movement and horror painted across her face. Lydia takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “It’s not necessary.”

Stiles falls quiet when he realizes she’s staring at him with the same look in her eye that Stiles had learned to fear long ago. Her eyes are wide and wet, searching his face for something that will contradict whatever thoughts are swirling through her mind.

“You’re not telling me something,” Stiles states; no question, just the simple, unspoken demand. Lydia shakes her head. “Tell me.”

“I don’t know, Stiles, okay? Your magic...You drained completely from healing Deaton. Do you remember that?”

“I remember getting upset because of Isaac. Healing Deaton went fine.”

“Maybe at the moment, but afterward…”

“I collapsed.”

Lydia nods carefully, wringing her hands. “There’s just something very weird going on here, something that doesn’t make sense.”

“But at least we know what it is now, right? I’ll find a new anchor and I’ll be able to cast again without a problem.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple, Stiles,” Lydia says hesitantly. “I think it’s something more.”

“Just tell me,” Stiles urges, taking her hand in his and rubbing soothing circles over her palm. “We’ll get through it together, just like we always do.”

Lydia stares at him unblinking, and if it was anyone else, Stiles might waver under the gaze. Lydia breaks eye contact firsts staring down at the tiny baby-sized t-shirt she has clutched in her hand. She plucks at a string that hangs off the embroidered giraffe until Stiles takes the shirt from her gently. 

“Something’s coming for you,” she whispers urgently, so low Stiles barely hears her. “Something’s coming for you and they’re not going to stop. They’re not going to stop until...”

“It’s okay, Lydia,” Stiles assures her; wondering how much of what Lydia is telling his is a genuine premonition and how much of it is a baseless worry fueled from always expecting the worst. “I’m not going to let anyone get to me. I’ll take Laurie and we’ll leave before…”

“No!” Lydia yells, starling Stiles when she grips both his hand tightly. “You can’t leave.”

“Lydia…”

“You have to stay here. Where Derek can protect you. Where Scott and Allison can protect you. We’re stronger together, Stiles. You won’t...They’ll find you, Stiles, if you leave, they’ll find you. And...and...”

Stiles frowns. A panicked Lydia is enough to make Stiles second-guess his decision. A crack in the Red Queen’s armor could lead to catastrophic damage. Her searching eyes glisten as tears fall freely down her face, breaking Stiles’s heart. 

“Please, Stiles,” she begs. “Please let them help; let him help.”

“Lydia…” Stiles says hesitantly.

“No,” Lydia cries, dropping his hands. “Something’s wrong, Stiles, please. I can’t...the images are hazy...I can’t see! But you need Derek, and not just because you love him.”

“Lydia!” Stiles yells, acutely aware that there are at least two werewolves in and around his house. 

“I can feel it. Your magic is trying to heal, it’s been trying to heal since we got here. It must be because of this anchor thing, right? We need you strong to protect Laurie. And you’re stronger with him, Stiles, I swear you are. And it’s not because you’re weak. It’s because you make each other stronger. Please don’t let them find you, Stiles. Please. If they find you...if they find you...”

“Okay,” Stiles soothes, pulling Lydia into his arms where her tears dampen his shirt. “Okay, I’ll stay. We’ll get through this. I promise.”

Lydia shakes in his arms, hugging him tightly. Stiles hugs her back just as tight, reassuring her that he’s still there; that he’s still safe regardless of what she had seen in her visions. As Stiles cards his fingers through her hair, he tries to ignore the shiver of fear that lingers from her words.


	15. Chapter 15

Derek climbs out of the car after assuring John that he will keep him posted on Stiles’s condition. John honks once, waving to Derek as he drives off in the direction of the station. Derek heads up the short driveway towards the house, pausing when he hears urgent whispers coming from the tree near Stiles’s room. He veers across the grass, slowing when he identifies Allison and Isaac’s voices.

“I don’t even want to be here,” Isaac hisses. “This is a waste of my time.” 

“You don’t mean that, Isaac,” Allison begs. “I know it’s hard; him coming back like this without any warning. And I know how much you were hurt when he left, but…”

“Hurt when he left?” Isaac snaps. “I was angry when he left; walked out of our lives like we never even mattered.”

“You know that’s not true,” she sighs, a hint of annoyance coloring her words. “He was scared. I’m sure he missed you, Isaac. You were always his favorite.”

“Stop making excuses for him!” Isaac yells, barely containing his rage. “I don’t care if he missed me. I don’t care if I was his favorite. I don’t care if he’s back. I don’t care.”

His voice cracks on the last word, making Derek’s heartache. His beta is hurting, and Derek doesn’t know how to fix it.

“You care,” Allison says gently, and Derek watches her reach up and wipe a tear from his cheek. “If you didn’t care, it wouldn’t hurt this much.”

When Isaac doesn’t respond, Derek steps forward around the tree, making his presence known. “Everything okay?” he asks hesitantly.

Isaac startles, almost as if he hadn’t heard Derek approach. He steps away from Allison as he wipes the remaining tears from his face. “I’m leaving.”

“Isaac…” Allison begins, reaching for him as he puts more distance between them.

“Stiles doesn’t want me near his kid and Derek said I had to stay until he got here. As far as I’m concerned: mission accomplished.”

“Please don’t go,” Allison calls, but Isaac is already crossing the lawn. 

“Let him go,” Derek says gently when Allison starts after Isaac who disappears into the woods. “This is a lot for him to take in.”

Allison shakes her head as she heads back to the porch. “I feel for him, I do, but Stiles needs us.”

“I know,” Derek agrees, following closely behind her. “What did he mean Stiles doesn’t want him near Laurie?”

“I don’t know,” Allison sighs. “Maybe Stiles said something? I don’t know what happened at the clinic…”

Allison trails off and Derek knows she’s waiting for him to fill her in. There’s no easy way to explain what happened; no way to lessen the physical blow of Isaac’s words even to a human pack-member. “Isaac told Stiles he wasn’t pack.”

Allison stops short at the top of the porch stairs forcing Derek to stumble down a step. When she turns on him, Derek flinches at the fire that burns in her eyes. 

“How dare you, Derek Hale,” she hisses in a way that is far scarier than the few times she has yelled at him. Her voice is so low Derek is certain he’s the only one that can hear it.  
“That boy has been in your pack for years. Don’t give me that look. You and I both know he’s been your responsibility since high school no matter how delusional Scott is. How dare you take that away from him when he needs you the most.”

“I didn’t!” Derek hastens to explain. “I swear I didn’t. Isaac was angry and saying things without my knowledge. I would never. Stiles is...he’s…”

“The best thing that ever fucking happened to your pack?” Allison offers as a filler, eyeing Derek suspiciously. Though Derek is relieved to see she looks less murderous. 

Derek can’t respond to that; doesn’t know how to respond without showing just how true it is. Allison stares him down for a moment longer, only turning away when she’s certain Derek won’t contradict her. Derek continues up the stairs at a distance. Desperate for news on Stiles, he can no longer contain the question. “How is Stiles?” 

“Awake,” Allison sighs.

As she pushes open the door, Derek is immediately hit by the sound of childish laughter and someone blowing raspberries. He follows her into the living room, surprised to see Scott rubbing his wolfed out face against Laurie’s belly as she grabs his scruff. He smiles involuntarily at the sight as Allison laughs, causing Scott to look up and blush a scarlet.

“Hey, man,” Scott says casually, his features melting into his human face. “We were just playing, weren’t we, string bean?”

Laurie laughs, as Scott bounces her on his hip. He hands her over to Allison, who peppers kisses all over her face. 

“Why are you so lovable?” she coos while nuzzling her cheek. She walks over to the coffee table, dropping to her knees and placing Laurie on the changing pad.

“Where’s Lydia?” Derek asks, glancing into the living room behind Scott. 

“Talking to Stiles,” Scott explains, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks while he bends to pick up some of Laurie’s toys. “I’ve been actively trying not to listen. You know how angry they get when we eavesdrop.”

Derek nods watching as Allison secures the clean diaper in place and snaps her onesie closed. She smiles up at Derek when she notices him looking. “Want to hold her?”

“I...what?” Derek sputters, as Allison steps close to him holding out Laurie like an offering. He takes an involuntary step back when Laurie reaches out towards him, making grabby hands. “I don’t think Stiles will like that.”

Allison shakes her head with a laugh, before pushing Laurie into Derek’s chest. She steps back quickly, forcing Derek to reach up and catch her. 

When Laurie is pressed against his chest, all sound fades away. Derek just stares down at her. Her little head fits perfectly in his palm, the softness of her hair tickling his fingertips. When he takes a deep breath, he’s hit with a tidal wave of her scent. The spicy scent that he has always associated with Stiles is mixed with a more earthy scent, swirling together to evoke memories of safety, pack, and home. Laurie smiles up at him, reaching for his face with her tiny hands as her eyes glow gold. Derek instinctively flashes his red eyes back as he tucks her into the crook of his arm and places his finger in one of her hands. When her little fingers closed around his finger, Derek feels his heart swell. 

“She’s pretty great, isn’t she?” Scott says. Derek looks up to find Scott and Allison staring at him with matching, bemused smiles on their faces. 

“Yea,” Derek whispers, smiling down at her as she sucks his finger. He walks absentmindedly towards the couch, sinking against the cushions and transferring Laurie to his chest. Laurie snuggles against him and curls her fist in his t-shirt. Derek is rubbing soothing circles on her back and marveling at the tiny human that looks so much like him and Stiles when Laurie’s eyes start to drift closed. 

“Wow,” Allison breathes. “We haven’t been able to get her to take a nap all afternoon.”

Derek stares down at Laurie unable to take his eyes off her. He watches her for what feels like hours, unwilling to move and disrupt her from her slumber. When Scott and Allison move to the kitchen to begin preparing dinner, Derek risks whispering in Laurie’s ear.

“I’m going to protect you, little girl,” Derek breathes. “I promise. And I’m going to protect your Daddy because he doesn’t deserve to have someone chasing after him because of me. Even if you have to leave, it’ll be okay. I won’t let anything happen to either of you. ”

Derek’s breath freezes in his chest when he hears the creak of someone descending the stairs. When he glances towards the stairs, the first thing he notices is Lydia’s blotchy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes followed closely by Stiles’s shocked expression.

“Stiles,” Derek breathes, shock causing him to sit up slightly. Laurie whines low in her throat at the disturbance, forcing Derek to fall back against the cushions. He glances between Laurie and Stiles, unsure what Stiles will say. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“How long has she been out?” Stiles asks as he continues to descend the steps. Though Stiles is aiming for casual, Derek can hear the nervous tick in his heartbeat. Stiles walks towards Derek, who loosens his hold on Laurie so Stiles can pick her up. He leans over, running a hand over Laurie’s head, but to Derek’s surprise, leaves her resting on his chest. 

“I’m not sure,” Derek murmurs as a way of an apology. “Allison said she missed her nap today and I didn’t want to wake her.”

“It’s fine, Derek,” Stiles says as he folds himself into the opposite corner of the couch. Derek listens closely for the blip in his heartbeat that will betray the lie, but it never comes. Lydia gives him a small smile before heading towards the kitchen. “She looks tired.”

“Yea,” Derek answers, eyes still on Laurie as her back rises and falls with each breath. “So do you.” 

He glances over as Stiles’s head falls to the side, resting on the back of the couch. They sit in silence for a moment, not quite companionable but less awkward than Derek thought it would be. Stiles's eyes flutter closed as his breathing evens out. For a moment, Derek thinks he has fallen asleep.

“Did Isaac leave?” Stiles asks, startling Derek.

“Yea, he said something about you not wanting him here…” Derek trails off, taking note of the way Stiles winces.

“Looks like the award for who hates Stiles the most might be a two-way tie,” Stiles half-jokes. 

“I don’t hate you,” Derek says slowly, forcing himself to meet Stiles gaze. “And neither does Isaac. He just needs time.”

Stiles shrugs, a feigned nonchalance that Derek had always been able to see through. “Well, that’s what happens when you fuck everything up.”

“What?” Derek blurts out, startling Laurie who shifts uncomfortably. Derek runs a soothing hand over her back waiting for her to settle. “You didn’t fuck everything up, not intentionally.”

“Don’t look so surprised, Sourwolf,” Stiles smiles sadly, and Derek can’t help but feel a rush of pleasure at the nickname. “I can take ownership of my mistakes.”

“I didn’t think you couldn’t...” Derek says carefully. “I’m just not sure everything is your fault. It takes two after all, and I was never the best at communicating.”

“Der, I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, but let’s just agree that I overreacted, panicked and fucked up. I should never have left like that. And I’m sorry I did. I never got to say that yesterday. I’m sorry I was an ass...About everything. It’s sort of my default setting but I still made a lot of exceptionally bad decisions without considering how you would feel. So I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run. I should have stayed and talked to you about everything.”

“It’s okay,” Derek sighs, knowing in his heart that he forgave Stiles the moment Isaac called and he had thought he would never get the chance to forgive him face to face.  
“If I could take it back....”

“I know,” Derek assures him, not wanting Stiles to beg. Forgiveness comes easy when you think you’re about to lose someone love. Derek freezes, surprised by the thought. Though maybe he shouldn’t be; he had no recollection of deciding he didn’t love Stiles regardless of the lie he had tried to tell Lydia. 

“Okay,” Stiles sighs, sinking back into the couch as the tension bleeds from his body. He yawns widely. “I’m just going to close my eyes for a minute. I’m pretty sure Deaton gave me a horse tranquilizer or something. You can watch Laurie, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Derek says gently, watching as Stiles falls asleep almost instantly. Derek tugs the blanket from the back of the couch, draping over Stiles’s body. He glances between Stiles and Laurie and smiles, knowing he never thought he would have this. Stiles, Laurie, a family.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I am back! Well sort of. This semester has been terrible. But I have some chapters that I can post so I thought I would as an early holiday present. Hope you continue to enjoy it!

Stiles wakes slowly, the twinge in his neck hinting that he had napped for longer than anticipated. Light fingers card through Stiles’s hair, an act so reminiscent of his mother that it makes his heart ache.

“Stiles, sweetie, you awake?” Melissa whispers.

“Yea,” Stiles groans, sitting up and cracking his neck to relieve the pressure.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Okay,” Stiles sighs. “Headache’s gone and I no longer feel like I’m about to fall over.”

“That’s good,” Melissa says with a smirk, swatting his knee gently. “Come on, we’re about to sit down for dinner.”

“Who’s we?” Stiles asks, pushing himself up from the couch to follow her to the dining room. Stiles pauses when he enters the dining room, eyes landing on Derek where he sits at the head of the table with a burp rag over his shoulder and Laurie and a bottle in hand. Allison, Scott, Lydia and his father sit around the table, two remaining chairs for him and Melissa. “We apparently mean everyone.”

“Come on, Stiles, hurry it up,” his father complains. “Melissa wouldn’t let us eat until you woke up.” 

“He needed his rest after this morning,” Melissa huffs, dropping into the seat at his right hand. “I will not apologize for looking out for your son.”

Stiles heads for the last remaining seat next to Lydia and Derek. Laurie’s high chair sits catty-corner between him and Derek.

“How are you feeling?” Derek asks quietly as Lydia begins to serve dinner: Melissa’s famous lasagna.

“Better,” Stiles replies awkwardly, watching as Derek gently transfers Laurie from his lap to her high chair. He glances around the table looking for something for Laurie to eat. “Did she eat yet?”

“Yes.” Derek and Lydia reply simultaneously, sharing a glance that Stiles finds difficult to interpret.

“I fed her while Melissa was cooking,” Lydia elaborates. “It was getting late.”

“Good, that’s good,” Stiles replies, taking the plate from her. It’s a corner piece. He absentmindedly hands the plate to Derek, knowing he prefers the extra crunch. Derek takes the plate after a moment of hesitation, murmuring his thanks. Desperate to fill the silence, Stiles turns to his dad. “How was work, Dad?”

“Oh you know, same old same old,” he mutters. “Couple of drunks, some speeding tickets, my son’s car getting vandalized.”

Stiles chokes on his lasagna before glaring between Derek and Lydia. “Which one of you geniuses called my dad?”

“That would be me,” Lydia says without hesitation.

“Why’d you do that, Lyds?” Stiles whines. “He probably went and overreacted. You know that’s not good for his heart.”

“Overreacted?” Lydia asks incredulously. “Overreacted how exactly?”

“It’s just a little paint,” Stiles insists. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Lydia sputters. “You’re kidding, right? They found you, Stiles.”

“I know.”

“They found Laurie, Stiles!” she snaps, throwing down her fork. “Laurie!”

“I know,” Stiles replies, forcing his voice to remain steady. “I just...I don’t think you should have worried my dad, okay?”

“Well, Dad’s already worried,” the sheriff says pointing at himself. “So let’s just say that ship has sailed.”

“Of course it has,” Stiles grumbles, digging into his food. He can’t help the groan that escapes as his taste buds are overcome by the perfect balance of cheesy goodness and tangy tomato sauce.

“I actually had a question for you, Stiles,” his dad says between bites, glancing across the table towards Derek. “Did you notice anything...strange around the car?”

“Strange?” Stiles asks, through a mouthful of pasta. Lydia swats his knee under the table, and he swallows. “You mean stranger than ‘A bitch born to a bitch in heat’? No, can’t say that did. Why?”

“Derek found a cloaking charm under your car,” his dad explains.

“A cloaking charm? What kind of cloaking charm?”

“I analyzed it the best I could,” Lydia offers. “It seemed simple enough in concept, designed to interfere with scents. Mistletoe based…”

“Mistletoe!” Stiles yells, reaching for Derek’s hand without thinking. He turns it over urgently as if expecting to see the hideous mistletoe burns. “Did you touch it? Are you okay?”

“It’s fine, Stiles,” Derek says gently, tugging his hand from Stiles’s grasp. “The burns healed hours ago.”

“Burns!” Stiles yells, glancing around the table wondering why no one else was upset. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“We’ve been a little bit preoccupied with someone tracking you to Beacon Hills,” Derek explains.

“And you know, you passing out,” Scott says with a shrug.

“Right,” Stiles agrees, trying to calm his nerves and refocus on the spell. “So the spell interfered with scent. What does that mean exactly?”

“It made it impossible for me to scent anything on the car, in the car, near the car.”

Stiles mulls the information over his mind. No scent. The most natural use of scent was to track, especially if you found yourself surrounded by werewolves.

“Where’s the bag now?” Stiles asks, wondering if he can gain any more information from analyzing it.

“I destroyed it,” Lydia says apologetically. “I didn’t want to risk it with Laurie in the house.”

“That was probably wise,” Stiles agrees, glancing over at his daughter who is playing with her teething ring. She was definitely in a putting-things-in-her-mouth phase.

“I don’t understand,” Allison says. “Why shield the car?”

“I think they were hoping Stiles would run,” Derek explains. “And if he ran…”

“We wouldn’t be able to track him,” Scott interrupts, eyes wide with fright. “That’s a mean trick for a werewolf.”

“It would look like he disappeared again,” John says absentmindedly. Stiles flinches against the words, knowing his father is right; knowing that he had proven himself capable of the worst assumptions.

“Well,” Stiles says, pushing himself to his feet to begin clearing the table. “It’s a good thing I plan on sticking around for a while.”

“Really, dude?” Scott asks excitedly.

“That’s wonderful, Stiles,” Melissa says with a smile, patting his dad’s hand reassuringly.

“No, it’s not.”

Stiles startles at the anger in Derek’s voice. Rejection, abandonment, and pain well in his chest, forcing him to place the stack of dishes back on the table to avoid dropping them.

“No?” Stiles asks, trying to ignore the emotions swirling in his stomach. “I thought you wanted...”

“It’s not safe here,” Derek snaps, standing suddenly and startling Laurie into tears. Stiles immediately reaches for her, cradling her against her body. “It’s not safe here, you and Laurie are in danger.”

“Are you kidding me, Derek?” Lydia seethes. “I just convinced him not to tuck tail and run and you bring up this bullshit.”

“And we can protect them,” Scott states defiantly. “That’s why Stiles came home, right?”

“Right, Scott,” Stiles agrees, trying to push down his confusion. “It was just as dangerous in Berkeley, apparently.”

“No,” Derek insists. “It’s more dangerous here.”

“That makes no sense! In Berkeley, Lydia and I were alone. Here there’s Scott, Allison, Jackson, my dad, Melissa, even you!”

“Yea, well maybe that’s that problem!” Derek yells, forcing Stiles to fall silent before he storms out of the room. Stiles flinches as the back door slams. He looks around the room at the varying stunned faces of his family.

“Does anyone know what that was all about?” Stiles asks, bouncing Laurie lightly as he rubs soothing circles on her back.

“I think you better go ask him,” his dad says carefully.

“Dad…”

“Just trust me, son, go talk to him.”

“Fine,” Stiles sighs, heading towards the back door. “Let’s go, buttercup.”

Stiles pushes through the door, scanning the backyard before his eyes landed on Derek’s hunch shoulders. Everything about Derek’s posture screams at Stiles to leave him alone, but Stiles had never been very good at leaving Derek to his own destructive thoughts. He hoists Laurie on his hip before crossing the yard to stand next to Derek.

“You sure know how to send a guy mixed signals,” Stiles says when he’s near enough for Derek to hear him without raising his voice. “Go, stay, go. I’m really not sure what you want from me.”

“It’s not about what I want, Stiles,” Derek sighs, refusing to look at him. Stiles ignores the pain in Derek’s voice, refusing to question it. “It’s about what’s best for you and Laurie.”

“I know I only just came around to this idea today, but what’s best for me and for Laurie is for Laurie to be with people that can protect her. Something I can’t do right now.”

“It’s not that simple, Stiles,” Derek whines, finally meeting his eye. Stiles stares at Derek’s eyes, wondering if he was responsible for the pain that is there. Derek had said he’d forgiven him. Stiles had believed him, but maybe it wasn’t that simple.

“Derek, if you’re having second thoughts about being in Laurie’s life…”

“God, no,” Derek cries, his eyes widening in surprise. He reaches out for her where she has her head pressed against Stiles’s neck before letting his hands drop. “No, Stiles, she’s perfect. Holding her today was…”

“Like coming home?” Stiles offers when Derek struggles to come up with the words. Derek nods to show his agreement. Stiles wants to let Derek hold her now, remind him of that feeling before he forces them to leave, but Laurie has her finger wrapped in his shirt. Derek looks out across the yard, and Stiles wonders what he can see that Stiles can’t.

“There was a message on your car that was directed towards me,” Derek says quietly, barely above a whisper.

“What did it say?” Stiles asks hesitantly unsure if he wants to know.

“‘Hale’s Bitch’. They know she’s mine, Stiles.”

“Are you sure?” Stiles whispers though he knows Derek wouldn’t lie about something like this.

“I need you to take Laurie somewhere safe, Stiles.”

“And where is that, Derek?” Stiles nearly whispers, knowing that Derek knows the honest answer: nowhere. Nowhere is safe. Stiles had already proven that. Beacon Hills might be where his family is, but it was also the last place Stiles would’ve gone, even when desperate. The last place and they still found him.

“I know she’s your daughter, Stiles, and I have no right to ask you this, but if this is about me...my family…”

“Then it’s about Laurie, too,” Stiles says matter-of-factly.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Derek sighs, though Stiles can see how much saying those words hurt him.

“Derek, look at me,” Stiles begs, waiting until Derek finally meets his gaze. “Laurie is a Hale, just as much as you are.”

“Biologically yes, Stiles,” Derek agrees. “But…”

“You know,” Stiles interrupts as he smiles sadly down at his daughter. “You never asked me Laurie’s name.”

“Her name?” Derek says dumbly. “Her name is Laurie.”

“Technically yes, but didn’t you ever wonder about her full name.”

“Her full name?” Derek parrots, clearly not understanding Stiles’s implications.

“I named her Laura, Derek,” Stiles says, his voice cracking a little. “Laura Claudia Stilinski-Hale.”

“Hale?” Derek chokes out, emotion making his chest feel tight. “But...but why?”

“She was always your daughter, Derek,” Stiles says, sadly. “Even when I thought you didn’t...when I thought we would never come back home. I wanted her to know where she came from. And she came from you, Derek Hale. She came from you and your family. So what if they know? She’s our daughter, Derek. Running isn’t going to change that.”

“That just makes it more dangerous for you to be here,” Derek insists.

“I don’t care,” Stiles replies without hesitation. “I wanted to leave, Derek, as soon as I saw the car, I wanted to grab Laurie and run. But I’m so tired of running and worrying and yesterday you said you wanted her. You said you wanted your daughter. And I already took that chance away from you once, so I’m not leaving. Not again. If you can forgive me for leaving the first time, I owe it to you to stay this time.”

Derek stares at him wide-eyed, almost as if he doesn’t believe what Stiles is saying. Stiles uncurls Laurie’s fingers as he steps closer to Derek. Laurie looks up at Derek, reaching out for him. Derek takes her gently in his arms.

“We’ll figure it out, Derek. We always have in the past.”

“Okay,” Derek agrees, and a sense of calm settles over Stiles. There would be time to talk about everything else later, like his failing magic and Lydia’s emissary theories. For now, Stiles would take the calm. He would take the image of his daughter settling in her father’s arms. Everything else could wait.


	17. Chapter 17

Derek surveys the lower level of the house, as he wipes at the sweat dripping down his brow. He had woken early and drove to the Hale house before the sun was up. With Laurie’s scent clinging to his skin and the knowledge that, by some miracle, Stiles was planning on staying, Derek had decided to push through his last major renovation: the living room. As the sun rose, he had carefully replaced every rotting beam and put up new sheetrock, working through breakfast and prying up every fire scorched plank of hardwood floor to replace it with the carefully selected matching wood.

Derek smiles to himself, relief flooding through him. He feels settled knowing the inside of the house looks whole and complete now that the last remaining evidence of the fire has been banished. Later in the week, Boyd and Isaac will help him put up the new porch and Scott’s pack will help with the painting. For now, it's enough that the smell of smoke no longer lingers in the air.  
Derek yawns as he checks his watch, groaning when he realizes that he only has an hour before his pack arrives. He needs a plan to keep Stiles and Laurie safe, not the wishful thinking he had been hoping would carry them through. Since planning had always been Stiles’s strong suit, Derek had decided to call in reinforcements. 

As Derek climbs the stairs to take a quick shower, his phone vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out, confused by the unknown number that is displayed on the screen. Derek swipes his phone to open the message smiling when he sees a picture of Laurie’s face covered in what looks like blueberry baby food. As he’s looking at the image another message comes through: Messy breakfast for a messy wolf. ~S. Derek’s heart clenches realizing Stiles had texted him from his new phone, a phone that he seemed to guard like it held the secrets of the universe. After typing back a quick message about how important breakfast is for growing wolves, Derek saves Stiles number to his phone. He continues up the stairs, unable to keep the smile off his face.

~*~*~*~*~*~

When Derek steps out of the shower, he pauses listening to the muffled voices coming from the kitchen. There are definitely more voices than just those belonging to his pack. He dresses quickly, pulling on fresh boxers, jeans, and a t-shirt. He steps out of the steam filled bathroom and is immediately assaulted by the smell of fresh coffee. His stomach rumbles, reminding him that he skipped breakfast. He pads down the stairs, picking up the pace when he smells bagels.

Derek rounds the corner stopping short at the sight before him. He had been right: Jackson, Lydia, Allison, and Scott are interspersed among his pack. Erica leans over, pointing between an alarming number of paint chips that are scattered across the kitchen table and debating the merits of different shades of green with the Lydia and Allison. Boyd is showing Scott and Jackson the customized cabinets that Derek had built for the kitchen, a note a pride in his voice as he points out the carvings.

“What’s going on in here?” Derek asks gently, not necessarily upset at the unexpected guests but still slightly bewildered by the crowd.

“Derek!” Erica yelps, scampering over towards him as quickly as her heels will allow. She immediately tucks her head under his chin, pressing herself against his body. He wraps his arms around her after a moment of surprise-fueled hesitation. She hugs him back tightly before leaning back and rubbing her cheek against his. “I’m sorry I got all crazy yesterday. I blame the baby-induced tidal wave of hormones. And I’ve got two of them in there. So it’s like double the hormones.”

“It’s okay,” Derek assures her, rubbing a hand over her stomach when he feels the press of a tiny foot against his side. “How are the babies?”

“Permanently sitting on my bladder,” she groans before teetering back to the table. She sits in one of the chairs carefully, as Boyd hands him a cup of coffee with a reassuring smile. “But Lydia and Allison have helped me narrow down the color for the babies’ room to four greens.”

“Four?” Derek chokes out, barely avoiding snorting coffee out of his nose. “That’s narrowing it down?” 

Lydia laughs, that special laugh that makes Derek instantly feel like he will never understand the painstaking decisions that go into paint selection. “She started with thirty, so yea, I would say that’s narrowing it down.”

“Hey, man,” Scott says from where he’s leaning on the counter. “The house looks great. Looks like everything is really coming along.”

“Yea, it is,” Derek replies, trying to keep himself from puffing up with pride. He had worked hard on the house, and he knows it shows.

“When do you think you’ll be moving in?” Jackson asks as he heads over to where Lydia is sitting. He drops into the chair next to her. Derek smiles behind his coffee mug when Lydia leans into his side, thinking about the long-standing bet he and Stiles had about their relationship. Stiles insists it will take them another decade to sort out their relationship, but Derek still has hope for them.  
“I was thinking about tomorrow actually,” Derek says. 

“Really that soon?” Boyd asks from where he’s rubbing Erica’s back.

“Yea, the kitchen is fully functioning. So are the bathrooms. My room has been done for a while now. It seems silly to keep staying at the loft.”

“When can we move in?” Erica asks excitedly.

“After you pick a color to paint your rooms,” Derek states. “And furniture.”

Erica grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like “I’m working on it” and Derek laughs. He glances around the room confused, noticing someone is missing.

“Where’s Isaac?”

“I don’t know,” Boyd answers. “I thought he might be running late.”

Derek pulls out his phone and shoots him a text, asking if he’s alright. He gets a response quickly: _Emergency at clinic. Catch me up later._

“Everything okay?” Allison asks.

“Yeah,” Derek says unable to keep from frowning. He doesn’t like that one of his betas is missing a pack meeting. “Veterinary emergency apparently.”

Scott’s face scrunches in confusion like he doesn’t quite believe the excuse. When Scott pulls his phone from his pocket, presumably to text Deaton, Derek isn’t sure what to think. He wouldn’t put it past Isaac to make an excuse to get out of talking about Stiles, but to ignore a pack meeting? 

“So what are you all doing here?” Derek asks, forcing himself to shake off the uneasiness.

“Erica called us,” Lydia explains. Derek glares at Erica, but there is no real heat behind it.

“I figured if we were going to be talking about Stiles, McCall’s pack should be here, too.”

Derek shakes his head, knowing that bringing Scott into this conversation will just add to his own anxieties. As far as he knows, Stiles never told Scott that he had joined Derek’s pack and Scott was just aloof enough as an alpha that he probably hadn’t even noticed.

“Of course I should be here if you’re going to be talking about Stiles,” Scott snaps immediately defensive. “He’s my responsibility.”

“How do you figure that?” Erica says sardonically.

“Well, he’s practically my brother for one and he’s in my pack for another.”

“Yea, okay,” Erica scoffs, dismissing Scott with a wave of her hand. “Stiles has been ours for years, McCall, get your head of your ass and move on.”

Derek tenses as the red bleeds into Scott’s eyes. Boyd’s shift ripples over his body, a low threatening growl rumbling from his chest as he places himself between Erica and Scott. Derek can’t blame him. It doesn’t matter that Scott is their ally and more importantly their friend. Derek knows Boyd sees nothing but an alpha threatening his mate and unborn children. Scott falters finally when Boyd takes a small step forward, his growl deepening further.

“Boyd,” Derek says carefully, stepping directly in front of him in an effort to thwart any plan of attack. He winces, knowing he won’t be able to stop Boyd without hurting him if Boyd decides to go after Scott.

“He threatened her,” Boyd growls, voice slurring around his fangs as he tries to step around him.

“What?” Scott’s yelps. “No, I didn’t. I didn’t…”

“Seriously, McCall,” Jackson groans. “How many years before you stop flashing your eyes at every little thing that upsets you?”

“I’m sorry,” Scott mumbles, taking another step back to give Erica more space.

“See,” Derek says, glancing behind him as Erica pushes herself to her feet. “Everything’s fine.”

“Vernon, babe, come sit down,” Erica whispers in his ear. When she places a calming hand on his shoulder, Derek is relieved to see Boyd relax. “The babies and I really need one of your foot rubs, okay?”

Boyd hesitates for a moment before taking Erica’s hand and tugging her to the far side of the table. After putting the maximum amount of distance between her and Scott, Boyd pulls out two chairs for them. He drops into the chair tugging Erica’s feet into his lap, all the while glaring at Scott.

“I’m sorry,” Scott whispers again. “I didn’t mean to...I didn’t know...”

“I know,” Derek sighs, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “If she wasn’t pregnant, he would have let her fight you herself. Pregnant mates mess with our sense of protection.”

“Oh,” Scott says, instantly closing off. Derek wrinkles his nose against the wave of sadness that wafts off him. Derek feels for Scott, knowing he can’t help but think he will never know that feeling. Allison is at his side in an instant, kissing him gently on the cheek before sitting him in her vacated chair and climbing into his lap.

“So Stiles…” Lydia says, eyeing the table carefully as tension continues to crackle through the air. Derek sags down to the overturn paint bucket and drops his head in his hands, bracing himself for a very long conversation.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for all the kudos and comments. Special shout out to those of you that welcomed me back after a very long hiatus. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> PS-I'm going back and editing some very annoying typos in the earlier chapters. Sincerest apologies.

Stiles smiles at Laurie's blueberry-splattered face and can't help but laugh. She looks simply ridiculous, her face nearly completely concealed by blue muck. Stiles grabs a baby wipe to wipe off her hands when his phone vibrates.

“Oh, look, honeybee,” Stiles says lightly, as he opens the message from Derek. “It's a text from your Dad. ‘Even wolves need their fruits and veggies to grow big and strong.’ Says the parent who is not here to clean up your blueberry covered butt.”

“Please don't tell me she got it down her pants again,” the Sheriff groans as he enters the kitchen. 

“Fortunately that was just a figure of speech, Daddy-o,” Stiles says with a laugh as Laurie reaches her hands directly into her bowl to lick off more blueberry. When she wipes her hands down the front of her onesie, Stiles winces. “At least I think so.”

John shakes his head, as he reaches for the nearly empty pot of coffee. “Rough night?”

Stiles scoffs finally taking the bowl from Laurie and heading for the sink. “Don't act like we didn't keep you up all night. That girl could wake the dead by sheer force of lung power.”

“I'll admit she did seem a little restless.”

“Yea,” Stiles says sadly. “I think she missed Derek...like as her alpha. Especially with the full moon so close.”

The sheriff leans against the counter near the sink, eyeing Stiles suspiciously. “Why the long face, son?”

“It nothing. It's just…” Stiles trails off, trying to swallow the feelings of self-deprecation and inadequacy that hovers just beneath the surface.

“Just...” John prompts.

Stiles takes Laurie’s bowl to the sink to rinse before putting it in the dishwasher. He dries his hands and leans next to his dad. He watches Laurie, who is dozing in her high chair now that she's full and content. 

“I was never going to be able to give her everything she needed,” Stiles whispers, almost afraid to release the words from inside his head where they've been bouncing around since late last night.

“What are you talking about? She's happy and healthy. You've taken very good care of her.”

Stiles shakes his head. “She's a wolf, Dad. And no matter what I can do on a good day, she was always going to need her alpha.”

His father settles his hand on his shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “You have raised a wonderful little girl, Stiles. She obviously loves you and Lydia, and she’s growing to love all of us, too. You need to stop beating yourself up over the past and focus on the present.”

“You mean the unknown psychos that want to kill my daughter as part of some long-winded scheme to eliminate the Hale line?” Stiles asks sarcastically.

His dad glares at him for a moment before shaking his head. “I mean the fact that you and Laurie are here and so is Derek. From what I saw yesterday, it seems like you’re on your way to something good.”

“Dad…” Stiles interrupts, not wanting to think about the complicated emotions clouding his mind. 

“Listen, Stiles, I’m not going to pretend to understand all this supernatural relationship, anchor stuff, but even without all that, I think you and Derek need each other. Even if it’s only to protect that little girl.” 

Stiles remains silent, knowing that he can’t disagree, and his father nods, satisfied that Stiles isn’t fighting him.

“So what are you two up to today?”

“I think I’m going to go see Deaton.”

“After he nearly killed you?” 

“He didn’t nearly kill me,” Stiles scoffs, waving off his father’s concern. 

“Technically, I think I nearly killed myself with my own stupidity. Regardless, he’s still the only one that can help me work on my magic.”

“I don’t think you should go alone,” John replies, worry creasing the lines in his face.

“Dad, I know the man is evasive and weird, but he’s not going to hurt me,” Stiles assures him while rubbing a washcloth over Laurie’s face.

“But those people know you were there yesterday. What if they come back?”

“If they come back, I know for a fact that Deaton can make at least seven different incendiary devices just from the ingredients in the clinic. Where do you think I learned how to do all that stuff?”

“Stiles…” John sighs wearily running his hands over his face.

“We’ll be fine, Dad. I promise,” Stiles says with a smile, as he tugs off Laurie’s onesie and tosses into the laundry basket. He sighs in relief when he sees the blueberry has in fact not made it below the first layer of clothing.

“Fine, but I expect frequent phone calls.”

“Yes, sir,” Stiles replies with mock salute and Laurie giggles. “Come on, honeybee, time to get ready to go see weird Uncle Deaton. Hmmm...I’m not sure Uncle works all that well...Maybe weird second-cousin-twice-removed-on-Daddy-Derek’s-side Deaton?”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Stiles pulls his father’s old, beat-up car in front of the clinic, grateful that he hadn’t scrapped it immediately upon becoming sheriff. While Stiles definitely prefers his baby blue Jeep, his father had told him it would take at least another two days to get the car back from the shop. He grabs Laurie’s diaper bag from the passenger seat and climbs out of the car. He knows Deaton is here, despite the lack of cars out front. Stiles can sense him within the building, moving around aimlessly as he goes about his morning.

“Well, maybe Daddy’s getting some of his magic back after all,” Stiles murmurs to Laurie as he pulls her from her car seat. He places her securely on his hip before bending down again to reach her stuffed lion. “Can’t forget Roar, now can we.” 

Laurie smiles, making grabby hands at the lion. Stiles hip checks the car door closed and heads for the side door, knowing Deaton will have left it unlocked. 

“Deaton?” Stiles calls into the back room. 

“In here,” Deaton calls from the depths of the building. Stiles follows the voice towards the storage room. He pauses when he passes the empty gated area that Deaton uses to let the puppies run free. After a moment of guilt, he doubles back, drops Laurie’s blanket to the floor, and places her inside the gate. 

“Better than taking a baby wolf in a room full of wolfsbane,” he says, mostly to convince himself he’s not a terrible father. He drops a kiss on her head and pulls out some more of her toys. “Be a good girl for Daddy, okay?”

Laurie drops onto her back, sucking Roar’s ear into her mouth and smiles. Stiles walks towards the storage room, pausing to watch Deaton carefully mix various herbs into a pouch.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Stilinski?” Deaton asks, without pausing.

“I had a couple of questions for you,” Stiles replies vaguely, finally entering the room.

“I told you everything I knew yesterday,” Deaton says bluntly. Stiles shakes his head to himself, trying to remember that Deaton doesn’t mean to be nearly as rude and dismissive as he often is. 

“I learned some new things since yesterday,” Stiles explains. 

“Oh?”

“Yea, I…” Stiles pauses, as Deaton seals the pouch. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“Trying to recreate that satchel Derek found on your car. Unfortunately, Ms. Martin incinerated it before I could analyze its compounds.”

“Ah,” Stiles says, knowing it won’t matter to Deaton that Lydia was trying to protect Laurie. “Any progress?”

“All I know is that mistletoe is a highly complex compound. To manipulate and cloak the scent of a werewolf, even a baby werewolf, from a family member is nearly impossible. Make that family member the baby’s father and her alpha and we have entered the realm of impossibility.”

“But they did it, right? Derek couldn’t scent Laurie in the Jeep at all.”

“Correct, Mr. Stilinski. And there is only one way I know that can be done.”

Stiles waits, expecting Deaton to continue. He sighs exasperatedly, knowing he shouldn’t be surprised when the silence grows. “And that would that be?”

“The base elements of the satchel would have masked your scent from every other wolf easily. That part isn’t complex. What is interesting is that in order to work against Derek, the spell had to be designed specifically to interfere with Alpha Hale’s ability to locate his pack. In order to do that, some part of Derek was included in the spell.”

“Part of Derek?” Stiles asks. “You mean like physically part of him?”

“Yes, Mr. Stilinski, physically part of him; blood or hair would have worked best. Since I don’t have the original I can’t know for sure.”

“But how did...How would they have gotten something like that? I was only in town for a few days. Even if they followed me from Berkeley directly, Derek is a werewolf. You can’t exactly just sneak up on him and pluck out a few hairs!”

Stiles can hear his voice edging into the realm of hysterical and forces himself to take a deep breath. Deaton glances over at him without saying a word as Stiles calms himself.

“It would seem, Mr. Stilinski, that whoever has followed you here knows more about your life than they initially let on, but I think you already knew that.”

“I had my suspicions,” Stiles admits. “I can count on both hands the number of people at school that knew Laurie was biologically my daughter and I can count on one hand the number of people that knew I gave birth to her. Even less knew her other father was a wolf.”

“What about the pack that helped you deliver?”

“They were a very small pack; old, but small. Hadn’t been in the area for very long, but I did my research. Only the Alpha and her emissary ever knew about Derek being a wolf, and they didn’t know it was Derek. The rest of the pack thought the entire pregnancy was some sort of freaky side-effect of being a spark.”

“They weren’t far off,” Deaton muses, turning back to his workbench. He carefully seals the satchel inside a glass jar and cleans up the herbs scattered across the bench. “I believe you came here to talk to me about something other than cloaking magic.”

“Yes,” Stiles agrees. “I came here to ask you about being an emissary.”

Deaton’s hands falter slightly, forcing him to unscrew the jar he was capping and realign the grooves. Stiles zeroes in on the action, knowing he has startled the man.

“What about being an emissary?” Deaton asks, his voice revealing nothing.

“How does one become an emissary?” Stiles asks casually; two can play at being evasive.

“A magic-user enters into an agreement with an Alpha, to serve, protect and care for their pack. An emissary advices an Alpha on how best to care for their pack and keep them strong. We covered this in your studies, Mr. Stilinski.”

“Does that agreement have to be explicit? Like a contract or something?”

“Sometimes it is, but it doesn’t have to be. Some relationships happen more...organically.”

“How many emissaries can a pack have?” Stiles knows the answer and expects the look of disgust that crosses Deaton’s face.

“One, Mr. Stilinski, it would be highly distasteful for an Alpha to seek the advice of multiple emissaries.”

“How many packs can an emissary serve?”

“One,” Deaton replies cautiously as if just realizing where Stiles’s questions have led them.

“And you’re an emissary, right?”

Deaton hesitates, though his face remains carefully blank. “That is correct, Mr. Stilinski.”

“And which pack do you serve?” Stiles refuses to break eye contact with Deaton, daring him to lie. Stiles can’t believe he hadn’t seen it sooner, can’t believe it has taken him years to realize what has been right in front of him.

“Why do you ask?” Deaton asks evasively.

“I suspect you know,” Stiles says, watching Deaton carefully for any signs that will help him get answers.

“I serve the McCall Pack, Stiles,” Deaton says his face softening slightly.

“But you haven’t always,” Stiles insists. “You served Talia Hale for years.”

“That is correct,” Deaton agrees. The pitying look that crosses his face enrages Stiles. 

“So what? You just left Derek and his pack defenseless when a True Alpha rolled into town? That seems sort of counterintuitive to the whole protect, serve and care mantra, doesn’t it?”

“I didn’t leave the Hale pack unprotected, Stiles. My services were no longer needed.”

Stiles scoffs and stalks out of the storage room. The calmness in Deaton’s voice is grating at his nerves. There would be only one reason Deaton’s services were no longer needed by the Hale Pack: someone else had filled the role of emissary. Stiles shakes his head as he stalks over to Laurie who is crawling around the enclosure slowly, encumbered by her stuffed lion. 

“Come on, honeybee, it’s time to go,” Stiles says while scooping her up. He shrugs her diaper back over his shoulder and turns toward the door.

“Wait, Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton calls after him, causing him to stop short. “Take this.  
Stiles turns around and takes the small bag, curiosity getting the better of him. 

“What is it?”

“It’s a tea I mixed together last night. It should help you stabilize your magic, so you are less likely to have another accident like with the gun. More importantly, it will help ground your spark. An untethered spark is a dangerous thing. It will try to latch onto any force it can, even the forces that keep you alive.”

“So Lydia was right,” Stiles says wearily. “I almost died.”

“I have found it wise in the past to always assume Ms. Martin is correct,” Deaton offers. “Especially when it comes to death.”

Stiles nods, knowing he can’t disagree. He tucks the bag into the diaper bag.

“Focus on controlling your magic in tiny increments. It will work better if you are near Derek. I have no doubt that you will regain full use of your spark with time.”  
Stiles nods and turns to go, stopping short when Deaton’s hand drops on his shoulder.

“You asked questions you already knew the answer to, Mr. Stilinski, yet are still angry.”

Stiles shakes his head, though he’s not sure at what. There is no accusation in Deaton’s tone, just understanding. 

“Talk to your Alpha. He’ll be able to provide some answers.”

Stiles nods curtly, before shrugging Deaton’s hand off his shoulder and heading towards the door. After struggling to buckle Laurie into the backseat of the car, Stiles rolls the tension out of his shoulders. He glances at his watch, calculating the number of hours he has until his dad gets off from work. No time like the present to talk to his Alpha.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! I'm honestly not sure how I feel about this chapter (or the next one). I thought about posting them both at the same time but decided against it. Let me know what you think...

Derek watches as his and Scott’s packs climb into their cars and drive off. As the silence descends around him, he instantly feels relieved. While they had eventually come to an agreement eventually, Derek’s ears are still ringing from the yelling. They hadn’t even settled on a good plan. Watch Stiles from a distance, a fact that was sure to piss him off if he ever found out, sounded more like a return to Derek’s early stalking than a plan to keep his daughter and Stiles alive. Derek had insisted they reinstate daily patrols in an effort to locate any strangers in town, even though he doubted they would turn up anything new.

Derek sighs, rubbing at the tension headache that has plagued him since the bickering and petty jabs between packs had begun. In recent years, the packs had typically gotten along. Unfortunately, as a permanent point of contention, Stiles always seemed to bring out the worst in them. Everyone’s desire to protect him always overrides their common sense. 

Derek sweeps the empty paper cups and napkins into the garbage can before wiping down the kitchen table. He’s washing his hands in the sink when he pauses angling his head towards the driveway where he can hear the faint groan of an unfamiliar engine coming up the road. Derek glances at the clock, knowing he isn’t expecting any guests. He heads towards the front door and peeks out the window to see a vaguely familiar navy car pull up the driveway. 

Stiles’s scent hits him before he can see the driver clearly, and Derek opens the door stepping carefully onto the rickety stack of crates that have been serving as steps. When the car comes to a stop and Stiles climbs out of the front seat, Derek can’t help the smile that spreads across his face.

“Stiles?”

“Hey, Derek,” Stiles says a little breathlessly, his heart racing with nerves.

“What are you doing here?” Derek asks, instantly worried. “Is Laurie okay?”

“Yea, yea she’s fine,” Stiles says, getting her from the backseat as if to prove his point. Laurie screeches in delight when she sees Derek and starts reaching for him. 

“Just thought we would come for a little visit.” 

Derek hesitates, hearing the echo of a blip in Stiles’s heartbeat: not quite a lie, but not quite the truth. Stiles closes the distance between them and hands Laurie to Derek. Laurie immediately rubs her face against Derek’s neck as Stiles heads back towards the car to grab her things.

“Is it okay that we’re here?” Stiles calls over his shoulder. “I asked my dad where you were living these days, and he said I should check the house. At first, I wasn’t sure which house he meant.”

“Of course it’s okay, Stiles,” Derek assures him. “You’re both welcome anytime. I’ll be living out here full time.”

“Living here?” Stiles asks, surprise tinging his scent as he shields his eyes to look up at the house. “Can’t say it looks all that habitable, Derek.”

Derek chuckles, transferring Laurie to his other hip. “The exterior isn’t done yet, but the new siding should be here in a few days and once that’s done I’ll put up the porch. The inside is nearly done, just needs some fresh coats of paint.”

“Hmm,” Siles hums, causing Derek to look over at him. 

“What?” Derek asks.

“I just never really thought you would do it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you are. I just never thought I would see the day you decided to renovate.”

“It seemed right,” Derek says carefully, not sure exactly what Stiles means. He knows the house was a sore spot in their relationship. Stiles never pushed him to make a decision, though Derek knew Stiles always felt he was holding onto it as a reminder of all the bad things that had happened in his life. 

“It is,” Stiles assures him, placing a hand on his arm. “I always hoped you would renovate instead of tear it down.”

“You never said,” Derek says, trying to recall when Stiles might have even hinted at such a thing.

“It wasn’t really my place, Derek. It was your family’s home. You had to make that decision yourself.”

Derek stares at Stiles for a moment, wondering, not for the first time, who the man is before him. He seems so much more mature than Derek remembers. Or maybe it’s that he’s surer of himself. He’s settled into himself in a way that Derek would never have predicted. Gone is the babbling teenager that never expected anyone to take him seriously.

“Want to show us the inside?” Stiles asks and starts towards the front door. 

“Wait,” Derek says, reaching out to stop him. Stiles glances down at where Derek is holding his hand, and Derek quickly drops it. “We should go around back. Those crates aren’t exactly up to code.”

“Lead the way,” Stiles offers while gesturing towards the side of the house. 

Derek heads towards the back door, watching Laurie take in her surroundings with wide eyes. He wonders if the center of Hale lands calls to her just as it has always called to him. He’s always felt at home here despite the darkness that tinges the thoughts of his family. Derek smiles, thinking of all the stories he can tell her when she older; stories about their family, especially now that the happy memories come easier.

Derek struggles to get his keys from his front pocket when he reaches the door. When they finally come free, he turns the key in the lock and pushes it open. He steps back allowing Stiles to step through the doorway, following closely behind with Laurie. He closes the door and flicks the lock closed before turning around.

“You can put her bag on the table if you want,” Derek suggests as Stiles stands in the center of the kitchen, awkwardly holding Laurie’s diaper bag in front of him. Stiles nods before following the suggestion.

“It looks like a completely different house from the back,” Stiles says when he turns back towards Derek. “And this kitchen is like the thing of my dreams. Look at all that counter space.”

“Yea,” Derek laughs, “I went a little overboard.”

“I mean you only renovate your family home once, hopefully, so you might as well.”

“Yeah,” Derek agrees, surprised at how easy it is to talk to Stiles still. Almost as if putting down their baggage last night had allowed them to find their way back to friendship. “Come on, I’ll give you the tour.”

Derek leads Stiles through the first floor, showing him the study with the built-in, wrap-around bookshelves that will house his family's books from the vault and the guest bedrooms on the ground floor for the pack’s older relatives so they don’t have to climb the stairs to the second or third story. They trail through the dining room where Stiles drags his fingers along the custom table that is large enough to hold both the Hale and McCall packs comfortably with room to spare. Derek quickly shows Stiles the basement, pointing out the fire-proof panic room he had put in as soon as the contractor told him most of the house could remain standing. On the way up the stairs, Stiles glances at the miscellaneous boxes that hold the odds and ends Derek had already bought for the house, pausing when he catches sight of a particularly large one. 

“Ohmygod, you bought a flat-screen TV,” Stiles breathes, practically drooling as he eyes the box. “Finally!”

“Well someone once told me a TV is an essential part of building a home,” Derek says with a smile as he nudges Stiles back up the stairs. They move through the living room quickly, though Stiles marvels at the repaired floors, and head for the stairs. 

As they climb the stairs to the second story, Derek realizes just how much of the house was influenced by Stiles. His style is splashed across the house, from the color of the paint in the hallways to the accents on the staircase that look like moons. Derek had heard Stiles’s voice in his mind when he saw them in the store, urging him to give in despite the cliche. Derek smiles as Stiles runs his hand over them, knowing he sees the beauty in them that had forced Derek to purchase them on the spot.

“It’s mostly just bedrooms and bathrooms up here,” Derek explains. “There are five bedrooms, more than enough to everyone to have their own. And one for the twins once they’re born.”

“The twins?” Stiles asks as he peeks into one of the bathrooms.

“Yeah,” Derek says guiltily, knowing Erica will kill him for spilling the beans. “Erica and Boyd are having twins.”

“What?” Stiles squawks. “That’s amazing. Catwoman’s having twins. Oh, she’s going to be such a kickass mom.”

“Yea,” Derek agrees. “You should see how protective she is already.”

“I’m not sure she wants to see me,” Stiles smiles sadly as his scent sours. He continues down the hall, glancing back at Derek uncertainly. “Not that I blame her. Can’t be good for a pregnant werewolf to have a stranger in her midst, can it?”

“You’re not a stranger, Stiles,” Derek assures him. “I had to physically restrain her from hunting you down after she found out you were home. She misses you We all do.”

“Isaac doesn’t seem to,” Stiles says far too casually for the pain that sours his scent.

“Isaac is…” Derek starts unsure how to finish that sentence. “Complicated. You know that. He just needs time. And maybe an apology.”

“I was hoping I would run into him at Deaton’s today, but he wasn’t there.”

“You went to Deaton’s?” Derek asks, wondering where Isaac was if the veterinary emergency really had been feigned. 

“Yea, I had some questions to ask him, and he gave me this weird tea for my magic. Kind of tastes like rotting flowers.”

“Do you think it’s helping?”

“I’ll keep you posted,” Stiles says as he continues down the hall. 

Derek glances down at Laurie, who has reached up to rub his face. He smiles down at her, lifting her more securely on his hip. 

“What’s behind door number seven?” Stiles asks jokingly, reaching for the handle to the master bedroom.

“Stiles, wait,” Derek says, suddenly remembering what’s behind that door: the accent wall in Stiles’s favorite color, the furniture that is a near perfect replica of the antique set Stiles had fawned over during a trip to the mountains, the sliding glass door that would lead to a porch just as Stiles had always dreamed. The rest of the house had inadvertently been a homage to Stiles, but Derek knows he designed that bedroom with only one partner in mind. 

But it’s too late. Stiles is opening the door and stepping across the threshold and Derek can do nothing to stop him.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, Stiles's long-awaited reaction. Hope everyone enjoys what I did here!
> 
> Also, this is a longer chapter so hopefully you will forgive me for the delay I am anticipating in my next post. I have a very busy week coming up so it might be closer to two weeks than a week.

“Derek,” Stiles breathes, and he knows how it sounds: like all the prayers he uttered each night he was without Derek have finally been answered. He can’t quite understand what he’s seeing. The furniture is familiar: dark, rich wood that offers a contrast to the blood-red wall. Stiles takes another step, running his hand over the exposed headboard. The itch of a memory scratches at the back of his mind. He remembers a little antique shop tucked in the mountains and the bedroom set he had spent just a moment lingering over, wishing he had somewhere to put it. 

“Stiles, I’m…”

“It’s beautiful,” Stiles says quickly, not wanting to hear Derek apologize for this. He can’t move, rooted to the spot by one simple feeling that this room embodies: home. He closes his eyes, wanting to hold onto this feeling for a moment longer. He can’t help but picture what it would be like to call his room his. No, not his. Theirs. Lazy mornings in bed until Laurie’s cries summoned them. Reading on the porch as the sun set behind the trees. 

Stiles swallows the emotion building inside him as he turns back to Derek. He stares at him, wondering if he’s seeing Derek for the first time since he has returned to Beacon Hills. The Derek before him is different than the one he left: a little more guarded but softer around the edges somehow. There are laugh lines surrounding his eyes, so different than the stress he used to carry in his face. He’s cradling their daughter against his body, softening his stance so she can lay her tiny head on his shoulder. Stiles breath catches in his throat, thinking about how Laurie has fallen for Derek just as easily as Stiles did. Love at first sight.

“The entire house is amazing; it’s all so beautiful,” Stiles sighs.

“Thank you,” Derek replies, a subtle blush creeping up his cheeks and causing Stiles to smile. 

“And this room; it’s just…” Stiles gestures around him as if that will explain what he’s trying to say. “It’s just perfect.”

“Thanks, but I can’t take all the credit,” Derek says meaningfully, stepping closer to Stiles. “Afterall, I didn’t even pick out the furniture.”

Stiles feels his heart skip a beat at the admission and knows Derek can hear it when his head cocks to the side. Stiles mirrors Derek’s small step forward, forcing himself to look up to meet Derek’s eye. Stiles missed this: the proximity, the smell, the heat; all of it combining to be perfectly Derek. Leaning in would be simple. Pushing himself up on his toes slightly to close the distance between their mouths even simpler. But he’s not sure what Derek would do. It seems equally possible that Derek might push him away or pull him closer. Stiles teeters on the balls of his feet wondering if he should just let gravity take him forward when a foul smell stirs the air causing Derek and Stiles to wrinkle their noses. 

“Laurie,” Stiles sighs with a shake of his head. “Here, I’ll take her. Somebody needs a diaper change.”

“I don’t mind doing it,” Derek offers, and with one step back, the safety and warmth that had surrounded Stiles moments before are gone. Derek heads down the stairs, but Stiles lingers for a moment in the bedroom. He glances around the room one last time committing it all to memory in case he’s never invited back inside. He closes the door carefully, sealing the memories of home and family behind it.

Stiles heads down the stairs listening to Derek hum what sounds suspiciously like a lullaby in the distance. As Stiles rounds the corner into the kitchen, he feels his phone buzzing in his pocket. Stiles pulls out his phone answering the call on speaker, knowing Derek will be able to hear both sides of the conversation anyway.

“Hey, Daddy-o, what’s new?”

“Where are you, Stiles?” John asks sounding tense.

“I’m at the Hale House with, Derek,” Stiles says carefully. “I called you remember?”

“Yea, yea, I remember,” his dad says with a heavy sigh.

“What’s going on?”

“Mrs. Collins called the station to report a black SUV cruising by our house every few hours. Said it looked highly suspicious and when I couldn’t reach you at the house, I panicked.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Dad? House phones are dead; cells phones are the future.”

“Stiles,” John groans exasperatedly. 

“I can’t really apologize for this one seeing as I wasn’t even home to answer said house phone.”

“I know, Kid, I’m just glad you’re safe. Is Derek right there?”

Stiles holds the phone out and raises an eyebrow at Derek.

“Yea, John, I’m here.”

“Good. Saves me a phone call. We got some information today from the security cameras near the clinic.”

“Oh, yea?” Stiles asks, his grip tightening slightly on the phone.

“Yeah, one of the cameras caught a black SUV running a red light in the direction leading away from the clinic. Now Mrs. Collins didn’t get a plate number so we can’t match it, but the car definitely matches her description.”

Stiles can feel the anxiety growing in the pit of his stomach as he thinks back to the night he was driving to Melissa’s house. 

“Stiles?” his dad’s voice comes from the phone.

“Yea?”

“I asked if you remembered seeing a car matching that description at the clinic.”

“No, Dad, I don’t remember seeing a black SUV,” Stiles says casually. He can see the moment Derek hears the lie. His eyes narrow as he stares pointedly at Stiles's chest, a reminder as much as a question: how stupid can you be to lie in front of a werewolf? 

“Derek, what about you?” John asks.

Stiles holds his breath knowing that one word from Derek is all it would take for his father to know the truth. 

“I don’t remember seeing anything,” Derek says, keeping his gaze locked on Stiles. “But I’ll pass the information along to the packs.”

“Alright, I’ll text you the plate info. Plates came up as stolen so it might be a dead end for us, but if you find the car, you’ll let me know.”

“Of course,” Derek agrees.

“Okay, Dad, we’re gonna go.”

“Alright, Stiles. I’ll see you at home for dinner. Be safe.”

“Bye, Dad.”

Stiles stares at the dark phone in his hand for a moment, unwilling to meet Derek’s gaze again. 

“You lied,” Derek says quietly. “You know something about that car.” 

“I didn’t see anything at the clinic, I swear,” Stiles says, glancing up at Derek to assure him he’s not lying. “But...something else happened. I didn’t really think anything of it at the time, especially because Laurie wasn’t in the car.”

“What happened, Stiles?” Derek asks urgently but still making sure Laurie doesn’t crawl out of his reach.

Stiles takes a deep breath, knowing there’s no way to lessen the blow. “I think someone tried to run me off the road when I was on my way to Melissa’s.”

“Are you sure?” Derek hisses, his eyes widening in surprise.

“No, Derek, hence the I think. It was dark, and the car came out of nowhere. I just thought that they were a horrible driver, but after what happened to the Jeep and Dad seeing a similar car near the clinic…” Stiles trails off. “Maybe it was more than nothing.”

“But Laurie wasn’t with you?”

“Correct, but maybe they didn’t know that,” Stiles offers.

“Or maybe this is about more than just Laurie,” Derek suggests. “You should tell your dad. He can do something…”

“No,” Stiles insists. “I’m telling you. Besides, you heard my dad: stolen plates means it’s a dead end.”

Stiles knows Derek can hear the truth laced in between his words, the unspoken ‘I don’t want my dad to get hurt’ hanging between them. Even after all these years, Stiles is sure Derek knows exactly where he stands on involving his father in unnecessary risks. He hadn’t asked for this when he became small-town sheriff, no matter how competent he was with silver bullets. After a brief standoff, Derek nods and Stiles relaxes.

“You still could have told me sooner,” Derek sighs, a hint of exasperation in his voice. “I might have been able to do something about it that day. But now…”

“I didn’t know it was important!” Stiles snaps, causing Laurie to whimper. He knows Derek is just trying to protect him, but his earlier conversation with Deaton is nagging at him. Being chastised by Derek for not sharing information when Derek hasn’t always told him everything he needed to know is just too much. “Besides, it’s not like you have always told me everything I might need to know.”

“That’s especially rich coming from you,” Derek retorts. “What have I ever kept from you?”

“I knew it!” Stiles yells. “I knew you hadn’t really forgiven me for everything.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Derek assures him. “Of course I’ve forgiven you. Do you think I would’ve shown you all of this if I hadn’t?”

Stiles pants against his anger wondering how this pleasant day they were having turned into a fight. He’s pretty sure it’s his fault, that his anger got the better of him because he hadn’t known how to bring up the real reason he had come to see Derek. 

“Who’s your emissary, Derek?” Stiles blurts out, immediately wanting to take back the question at the crumbled look that mars Derek’s features. 

“I…”

“I went to go see Deaton this morning because Lydia had a theory about my position in your pack. I found it interesting considering I wasn’t even sure I had a place in your pack before I left.”

“Stiles, of course, you did.”

“I never really felt like I belonged with Scott, not really. Sure I love them all, but there was something about him being my Alpha that always felt wrong. But you never said anything, never really claimed me that way.”

“You know that’s not true,” Derek growls, glaring meaningfully at Stiles’s neck where his flannel covers the scar that is a perfect match to Derek’s teeth. 

“A moment of passion we never even talked about, and you know it,” Stiles snaps. “And then Isaac just took a dagger and stabbed right in the part of me that always doubted it, you know? That part of me that was always waiting for you to tell me I had overstayed my welcome.”

“Isaac wasn’t speaking for me, Stiles, you must know that.”

“The funny thing is that when I was with you, it was easy to quiet that voice. But then you were gone, and I know that’s my fault, but I had this baby and these memories and I started to doubt those memories, Derek,” Stiles sighs, holding back the tears that threaten to spill over. “Deaton said he’s Scott’s emissary. That he has been for awhile.”

“I know.”

“He also said he never left your back unprotected.”

“He didn’t,” Derek struggles to swallow, and Stiles tracks the movement with his eyes. “The only reason Deaton was able to join McCall’s pack was because I broke the alliance with him.”

“Why? Why would you do that?” Stiles begs, needing to hear him say it.

“I found a new emissary,” Derek says with a shake of his head a small, sad smile. “Someone I trusted more.”

“And who was that?”

“A sarcastic, little shit, teenager who wormed his way under my skin and into my life like a parasite.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Stiles whispers wondering where the relief he had expected to feel upon hearing the truth is hiding.

“I thought you knew,” Derek offers weakly.

“Bullshit,” Stiles hisses, knowing Derek’s tells as easily as Derek reads his heartbeat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Fine,” Derek agrees sitting back heavily in his chair. “I knew you didn’t know. I knew you had likely inadvertently accepted the position because of our relationship. You always cared more about others than yourself. Protection came easily to you. Once we were involved, you becoming my emissary felt natural. But I also knew that if I told you, you would have stayed. You would have skipped Berkley, skipped college entirely. I couldn’t be responsible for ruining your future like that, taking away all of those experiences that I never got to have. Your future was too important.”

Stiles stares at him for a moment wondering how to respond. “Am I still your emissary?”

“Yes,” Derek sighs, almost like any other truth would hurt him. “I couldn’t...I can’t replace you that way.”

“Replace me? You never even told me!”

“I was always planning on telling you once you graduated. I planned on making it formal, having an actual ceremony. Signing a contract if you wanted. I didn’t think you would disappear in the middle of the night. And once you were gone, I didn’t know how to tell you anymore. I thought it would dissolve with time.”

“But it didn’t. Why am I still your emissary?” Stiles asks urgently, realizing that’s the answer he needs to hear. He wants to be told it’s not all in his head, that the moment they almost shared was real, that Derek still cares about him.

“This is really fucked up, Derek,” Stiles says suddenly, and cringes when Derek’s eyes shoot open. He shakes his head at the pain in Derek’s eyes. “I don’t mean you and Laurie, or even being your emissary, though I’m still not sure how to deal with that considering I am completely useless right now. Just the rest of it. How were we in a relationship for so long when we kept so many secrets from each other?”

“We were trying to protect each other?” Derek suggests with a sigh. “Or maybe we were trying too hard to respect each other's choices without realizing we were doing the exact opposite? ”

“Yea, that about sums it up,” Stiles agrees sadly, dropping into the chair nearest Derek. Stiles rubs his hands over his face, wondering if Deaton is right. Can Derek’s pack really be safe in his hands? It feels impossible when he feels so useless. Stiles glances around the room. “Do you have a candle?”

“What?” Derek asks, startled out of his own thoughts.

“A candle or a match? Do you have one?”

“I think so?” Derek says carefully, making sure Laurie is enamored with her toys before pushing his chair back and heading over to his toolbox. He roots around inside, pulling out a pack of matches and tossing them to Stiles.

Stiles catches them easily, opening the pack and pulling out a match. He holds it between his fingers, picturing it igniting; burning brighter and brighter until it's extinguished. The match smokes feebly, never catching fire.

“Stiles, I thought you were supposed to be resting your magic,” Derek says carefully.

“I’m just doing an experiment,” Stiles says taking hold of the pack again and gesturing Derek closer. Derek sits back down eyeing Stiles carefully; likely thinking back to the last time Stiles had played with fire and nearly burned down part of the preserve. “I want to grab my hand when I tell you to, okay?”

Derek nods, and Stiles rips another match from the pack. He concentrates on it again, trying to light it with his mind. He can feel himself draining, his spark bouncing around inside of him aimlessly as it tries to latch onto something it can be channeled through.

“Okay,” Stiles says, holding out his hand. Derek grabs it tightly. Stiles feels the difference the moment Derek touches him; his magic snaps back to his center, rushing forward so quickly Stiles barely has time to control it. The match in his fingers instantly burns hot and bright as the pack on the table erupts in flames. Derek drops his hand quickly, reaching for Laurie to pull her away from the flames. As soon as he loses contact with Stiles, the flames burn out leaving a scorched mark on the table. Laurie laughs and claps her hands as if she enjoys the pyrotechnics.

“What was that?” Derek asks shakily.

“I think that was me getting my groove back,” Stiles mulls over, checking for his spark inside him. He can feel it. It’s faint, but definitely there and definitely more tethered. He glances down at the table and winces. “I think I ruined your table. I can fix it, though.”

Stiles holds his hand over the mark, reaching inside of himself to heal the wood.

“No,” Derek insists urgently, pulling his hand away from the table. “Just leave it. A home can’t stay pristine forever. We’ll call this its first lived-in moment. Better fire than blood, right?”

Stiles runs his hands over the burn mark, the first tangible evidence of his magic since he almost shot Derek. This time he controlled it though, at least more so than before. He felt its urgency, channeled it in the right direction, didn’t let it take control him. He sags back against the chair for a moment, allowing the relief to flood through him. Deaton was right, his magic would return. Unfortunately, he was right about something else: Stiles needs Derek to help heal him. He sighs, wondering how he can ask that of Derek while they’re still trying to heal themselves.


End file.
